There Are Always Stars
by rysaspirit
Summary: When Prince Alistair gets pulled abruptly out of school, he is forced to go through the ancient tradition of the Selection, where 35 girls compete for his heart and crown. To him, the Selection is anything but exciting — but, as we all know, the saying goes: "Stars can't shine without darkness." Will Alistair find hidden stars within this mess, as well as a wife? [SYOC]
1. A Colder Winter

**Chapter One: A Colder Winter**

 _"It couldn't be something big. His parents would have told him beforehand if there was big news."_

* * *

Winter had always been Alistair's favorite season.

He couldn't exactly call December in Angeles 'winter', due to the nonexistent temperature drop and the lack of snow. It was one of the things he preferred about Allens, where he attended school; one morning, he had woken up to a beautiful white blanket covering the courtyard, and from then on snow had been his favorite type of weather. He was also a winter baby, having been born in January, which gave him even more reason to look forward to the time that trees lost their leaves and animals disappeared into hibernation.

Ever since he had started attending Hilliard, the only holiday throughout the whole year (excluding summer vacation) when he could visit Angeles was the winter break. Alistair loved the four weeks he was allotted to spend time with his family. They were the only people who really, truly understood him.

In the palace, Christmas season was a whirl of festivities. His little sister Holiday's birthday ball, also known as the Christmas Eve ball by many, was his absolute favorite. There would be a plethora of famous guests, a good amount of food and a wide range of carols being performed. A few days later came New Year's Eve, and the celebrations were even grander.

But even if they weren't taking place, Alistair would've still felt the joy that coursed through him as he stepped out of the limousine into the not-so-cold Angeles air.

A loud cry of "ALISTAIR!" was the first thing he heard. He saw his parents, King Cliff and Queen Breena, waving from a few meters away. Surrounding them were his three little sisters: Isabelle, Holiday and Adina. The shout had come from Adina, who was jumping up and down.

When he reached his family, the first thing he did was to wrap Adina in a hug. "Hey, muffin. Still annoying all the maids?"

"I'm twelve, not three," Adina muttered, her words muffled by Alistair's jacket. "I'm a mature young woman. That's what mom said."

Alistair's mother raised an eyebrow. "Did I? I don't remember anything." Her brown eyes twinkled, showing the happiness that they usually held when she was around her loved ones.

"You did!" Adina protested, letting go of Alistair and pointing an accusing finger at the queen. Instead of intimidating everyone, she only made all of the Raynotts burst out laughing. "Mom!" Looking as if she was hiding her giggling, Breena shrugged innocently.

Cliff picked Adina up and swung her around. "Come now, little muffin. Mature young women don't throw tantrums when their older brother has just come back from school for the holidays! Isn't that right, Holiday?"

"Yep," Holiday chimed in with a roll of her eyes. Alistair tried hard to hide his laughter for his father's sake.

"Because mature young women can obviously do 360s on a ramp," Isabelle muttered under her breath, referring to Holiday's most recent hobby, skateboarding. Then, at a slightly louder volume, "So when do you go back to school again?"

Alistair was about to answer when his father placed a hand on his arm. "Wait, son… There's something we need to tell you," he said. When Alistair gave him a confused look, he went on. "You might be against it, but I hope you'll understand."

For a moment, all the possible news flashed through Alistair's mind, and he had a feeling he knew what his father was talking about. "Dad, it's alright. I know, and I'm fine with it."

Breena and Cliff exchanged looks of disbelief. "Are you sure you're okay with this?" his father asked.

Alistair shrugged. Why wouldn't he be? "I mean, twelve years is quite an age difference, and mom, you're a little bit old…"

"Wait, what?" his mother cut in.

He continued, not knowing why she was acting so confused. "And you always talk about how happy you are to have four kids, but I-"

"Stop. Alistair." His mother looked as if she wasn't sure whether to laugh or not. "Alistair. I'm not pregnant."

Unable to believe that he'd thought the queen was pregnant, Holiday and Isabelle burst out laughing at this. Adina snickered from her perch in her father's arms. Alistair's thoughts, however, were running wild.

What if what they actually had to tell him was extremely bad?

Had another country issued a declaration of war? Were they going to take away some of his allowance? Had they contacted the Hilliard headmaster about his C in chemistry?

"Then…" Alistair swallowed hard, trying to keep his nerves under control. It was probably some small news that wouldn't affect him too much. It couldn't be something big. His parents would have told him beforehand if there was big news. "What?"

Breena stared at the floor guiltily, so Cliff filled in for her. "Son," he said with unusual gentleness, as if he already knew how much this news would break him. "You're going to have a Selection."

The world seemed to spin around Alistair as all the color drained out of his face. His lungs constricted, up to the point where he felt like he was barely breathing. The space around him suddenly seemed to be filled with buzzing voices, whispering to him. _You're going to have a Selection._

When he finally managed to open his mouth, his question came out quiet and hesitant. "A Selection?" he choked out.

"Your father's getting old, Al," Breena said softly, sharing a loving smile with Cliff before returning her attention to her son. "We originally wanted you to ascend this summer, but we think that now's a good time to start. If you find a wife within a few months, we can spend the time between then and summer to train you. After all, you've been at Hilliard for the past few years, so you've been missing out on some of your other lessons."

For a second, Alistair imagined the quiet palace filled with thirty-five girls, all trying to compete for him. It was a terrifying thought, one that made him dizzy. Alistair had never really liked talking to strangers. Even at school, his world was fairly concise, and his friend Halynn was the one who helped him scare off all the annoying fangirls. What would it be like when he was legally required to date total strangers? He'd prefer his Hilliard classmates any—

"Wait, what about Hilliard?" he blurted out. A feeling of dread settled in his gut as he thought he already knew the answer, but he refused to even consider it until his parents confirmed—

"I'm sorry, Al." It was Cliff speaking again, and his expression was one of guilt. "But I just don't think school can do much for you. You've learnt a lot and you've had your fun, and I don't think you need Hilliard anymore. It's about time you start preparing for your rule."

Alistair could still remember when he'd been 14 and his parents had agreed to let him attend Hilliard until graduation. He had wanted a taste of what life was like outside the palace. Back then, the palace had been a home to him, but also a prison. He'd rarely been allowed to interact with the public, and his home was a constant reminder that one day he would be like his father, overworked and tired, with responsibilities weighing him down.

He felt cheated. He had friends in Hilliard who he might never see again. They would be studying for their diplomas and applying for colleges while he would be filling out financial reports and He was back to being a prince, instead of just a student. Of course he'd been treated differently while at Hilliard, due to his status, but it was the closest thing to normal he would ever get.

Most importantly, he didn't want anything to change.

"I'll think about it," he sighed in resignation. As if he had a choice.

His parents sighed in relief. "Al, we are so proud of you," Breena said, pulling Alistair into her embrace. "Should we discuss the rest inside? It's a little cold out here."

Alistair nodded, and he followed his family into the familiar but also strange entrance hall, throwing one last look over his shoulder at the limousine which had brought him to the palace.

It looked like this winter was going to be less fun than he thought.

* * *

Let the Selection of Prince Alistair Raynott begin! Thirty-five girls will come to the palace, but in the end, only one can win. Does your character have what it takes to become the Queen Consort of Illea?

This chapter was a brief introduction, and usually chapters will be longer than this. Let me know what you thought of it! Constructive criticism is always appreciated :)

Until next time!

~Rysa


	2. Now They Know

Sorry that this chapter took a while to get out!School has been a bit hectic recently, and I'm really sorry!

* * *

 **Chapter Two: Now They Know**

 _"Unfortunately, yes, you'll be following my screw-ups live."_

* * *

The palace felt almost normal to Alistair. Two days had passed, and he had settled in just fine. He'd met his new valet, he'd gone over his script for tonight's Report and he'd helped his parents with some planning for the Selection. In fact, if he closed his eyes for a moment, he could almost imagine that it was any other year and everything was still the same.

Unfortunately, it wasn't.

The key difference was that the palace was filled with activity. In previous years, there would be preparations made for the numerous balls and dinners, but this year was even worse. Maids scurried around the halls shouting and calling as they lugged heavy objects from one room to another. The kitchen, which Alistair liked to visit sometimes, was completely off limits as chefs created and sampled a whirlwind of dishes.

In the midst of the buzzing beehive was Alistair, alone in his room, staring at the telephone which sat temptingly on his desk.

He'd been wanting to call his Hilliard friends ever since he'd arrived at the palace. There was nobody else who deserved to know as much as them, and he knew that they would be furious if they found out about the Selection along with the rest of Illea.

But every time he looked at the phone, he was terrified of how they would react. He'd told his friends many times that he would never forget about them even when he became king. This was going against everything he'd promised since day one, and he hated it.

Alistair reminded himself mentally that he might never see his friends again, so it didn't matter what they thought. It put him at ease for a moment, but it also hurt him to think that way. They were the people who'd supported him and been with him for the past four years when nobody else had, and he would miss them like hell.

A brief wave of courage washed over him, and he seized the phone, dialing a number. As he held it to his ear, he waited with bated breath and prayed for the best.

"Hello?" the familiar voice of his roommate asked.

"Hey, Ric," Alistair said weakly, forcing a smile onto his face even though he knew Ricardo couldn't see him.

There was a long pause. "Hey. What do you want?" Ricardo asked. He might have sounded rude to strangers, but Alistair knew him well. Ricardo Jackson was not someone who took evasive routes. He was direct, and usually, Alistair preferred it that way.

"I have some bad news," he began hesitantly. When there was no reply from the other end, he took it as a signal to continue. "I… I'm going to have a Selection." It hurt to get the words out, as if saying it alone slapped him in the face. He would have to go through this with all his other friends too.

He heard a crashing noise from the other end and winced. "What?" came Ricardo's voice a few seconds later. He sounded as perplexed as Alistair had been a few days ago. "What are you talking about?"

"My parents want me to have my Selection and then ascend the throne this summer," Alistair said bitterly. "They're not letting me go back to Hilliard for the second semester, Ric." Saying it made him feel fifty times worse than before. How would he survive on the Report tonight?

Silence. "You aren't kidding," Ricardo realized. "I…I don't even know what to say."

Alistair felt a twinge of disappointment. "You don't care?" he blurted out. Ricardo was one of his best friends at Hilliard, and definitely his closest confidante. They trusted each other with — well, not necessarily their lives, considering the time Ricardo had nearly gotten them killed by challenging a taxi driver. But they were practically brothers — or at least, Alistair had thought so.

A sigh of frustration was heard. "Of course I care. But nothing's going to change the situation, is it? You're still going to be king, and I'll probably never see you again."

"Don't say it like that," Alistair countered immediately, though deep down, he knew Ricardo was right. "I might be able to get you guys to come to my birthday ball."

Ricardo was silent, and Alistair knew that he was thinking about the amazing birthday weekend which they'd started planning a few months ago. They had wanted to visit one of Illea's greatest amusement parks and spend two days there. "I'm going to miss you, Al," he finally said, and Alistair was able to detect the sincerity in his voice. "It's been a real honor being your friend."

"Same here, Ric." Alistair's voice wavered as he tried to keep his tears at bay. Princes did not cry. "I hope our paths cross again."

He heard a snort from the other end. "That's so dramatic." He paused, then added quietly, "I hope so too."

Alistair still had many more people to call, so he knew he should end the call, but he was still reluctant. "Goodbye," he murmured, and the beeping signaling an ended call started.

The next few calls went similarly. Seth Lynch was a little more excited at Alistair's offer of attending the birthday ball and had mentioned that he'd ask his parents about it, while Garreth Warden seemed a little bit more upset and had been unable to properly end things. He found that each call made things hurt more and more, and was regretting his decision to save what he assumed would be the worst for when all the other calls were over with.

Halynn's all-too-familiar voice answered his call. It was time to face the music. "Yo, who is this?"

"It's Alistair," he replied, trying to figure out how to leak the news in his mind. "I have something I need to tell you." He hoped to get over with it as quickly as possible, but knowing Halynn, he would be on the receiving end of a long lecture.

He proved to be right. After he'd told her about the Selection, she was quiet for a few moments, and he could tell that she had her signature silent glare on her face at the moment even without seeing her. He just knew her too well.

"You promised you wouldn't forget about us little people!" Halynn yelled, startling Alistair. "Honestly, Alistair! What happened to all those times when you said you'd still be friends with us even though you would be king? All those long talks about not being anything special even though you're probably the most important person in the whole of Illea? You said you were going to be different than the rest of your ancestors by trying to get to know your country."

Alistair didn't know whether to chuckle at her anger, because it was simply so Halynn, or feel even more down. "I know I said that. But I don't really have a choice, Halynn. Believe me, I want to spend the rest of my year at Hilliard."

"You're the crown prince," Halynn protested. "If you want to, you can! Come on!"

"I'm not the king yet, Halynn," Alistair reminded her sadly. "There are some choices I can't make."

Momentary silence ensued. "So I'm going to have to watch you date girls on television?" Halynn asked disgustedly.

He laughed in response, knowing full well how Halynn had always been the one to protect him from annoying fangirls back at Hilliard. "Unfortunately, yes, you'll be following my screw-ups live."

"But you promised you would never leave us behind for your royal life!" Halynn burst out again, as if she was fueled by a sudden burst of anger. "We do really care about you, you know. We don't want to lose our friend."

Alistair rolled his eyes, listening to Halynn continue ranting. He felt sad that he might never see Halynn again. Nobody would be there at his Selection to protect him from all the girls like Halynn had at Hilliard.

There was a sudden shout from the other end from somewhere in the background. "It's okay, Alistair!" came a voice from the background, who Alistair recognized as Keeley, Halynn's best friend. "Halynn hasn't had her daily dose of grunge, so she's just pissy. She'll come around!"

Ignoring Halynn's protests, Alistair let out a smile. "Why haven't you had your daily dose of grunge? Isn't your room enough?"

"Canadia, Keeley and I are at the beach," Halynn explained, referring to her sister as well. "It's been good so far, I guess. But still, I really can't believe you-"

"I know, Halynn." Alistair cut her off quickly before she started yelling again. "I know. And I'm sorry."

They talked a while longer about what the Selection would be like before Halynn sighed. "I'm sorry, but I've got to go. I'm not going to waste my entire holiday talking to you on the phone, sorry, and I really need to go do something else."

Alistair smiled. "Of course. Have fun." When the line went dead, he set down the telephone and stared blankly at the corkboard on the wall, filled with pictures of him and his friends at Hilliard.

 _When will I see you again?_

—

The countdown finished, and Aaden Althuis jumped right up, a wide smile on his face. "Greetings, people of Illea! Welcome back to your weekly Illea Capital Report! I'm Aaden, and this week I'm thrilled to be welcoming the handsome and intelligent Prince Alistair back onto our stage!"

Polite applause was heard from the live audience, and Alistair waved at the camera with a forced smile on his face. He had never liked Reports. Unlike Aaden, he didn't feel comfortable while on video, especially not live. He'd never gotten used to it.

"Welcome back from Allens, Your Highness. Enjoying the temperature?" Aaden asked with a playful wink.

Alistair laughed nervously. "Well, it definitely is a lot warmer here, but I can still feel some winter." He looked to Holiday for guidance. _Help!_ It had been ages since he'd been on the set of the Report, and he wished he'd taken his father's suggestion to use a teleprompter.

"Yes, winter in the palace is quite noticeable when there are festive decorations hung in every hallway," Aaden agreed, and the audience chuckled. He was an expert at playing the crowd, and the Report had been much more interesting ever since his father Edvin had stepped down. Even at thirty-one years old, he was one of the funniest Report hosts the country had ever seen.

"Almost too many," Alistair joked back, slowly feeling himself get into the swing of things. "This morning, a wreath nearly fell on my head." It was a pure lie, but the audience ate it up, gasping and giggling. "Still, I suppose it's preparation for the many events we have coming up."

Aaden recognized his cue immediately, raising an eyebrow. "Is it? I'm pretty sure the decorations last year were nowhere near as gorgeous. So aside from the annual Christmas Eve and New Year's Eve parties, have we got anything special this year?"

He swallowed hard before grinning at the camera. "As a matter of fact, we do."

"Spill!" Aaden urged.

Alistair browsed through all the possible ways of announcing the Selection in his mind. "Well, I'll give you a hint," he said, shooting the camera a sly smile.

"Your Highness, you're killing us," Aaden complained, though he was chuckling.

"Thirty-five girls will have a very special New Year's Day."

There was sudden silence as everyone tried to digest the news, then the audience burst into cheers. "No way!" Aaden cried out, even though he had found out a long time ago. "A Selection! That is fantastic, Your Highness!"

Alistair forced a smile, wishing he found the news that happy. "Yes. My very own Selection. This tradition has been with our family for the past couple of years, and I am anxious to see how mine will go after such a wondrous one where my father found the perfect queen." The audience _aww_ ed as the camera found Cliff and Breena, who were holding hands and smiling at each other.

"I'm sure every girl in Illea wants to enter," Aaden assured him. "So tell us about the requirements!"

"Forms will be sent out to all eligible girls between the ages of sixteen and twenty before tomorrow morning," Alistair announced, reciting what he had memorized earlier. "Provincial offices will be open tomorrow at eight in the morning, and you can start submitting your applications! Submitting closes on New Year's Eve at lunch, and the girls will be announced the next day, live on the Report."

"Did you catch all that?" Aaden asked the audience. "Better start sending in your applications if you want to be in the Selection of Prince Alistair Raynott! Before we sign off, Your Highness, I just want to ask one thing."

Alistair knew immediately what question he was going to ask. He racked his brains, trying to prepare an answer.

"What are you looking for in a wife?"

He knew now that if he said something, every single girl who signed up and came to the castle would try to be that way, but he knew Aaden would be dissatisfied with a very vague answer.

He decided to reply honestly, and his words came from his heart. "I'm looking for someone who will change me and my life for the better."

* * *

Thanks to all of you who've submitted your characters already!

For those of you who haven't, could you add these two sections to your form at the end? And for those who have, this is optional, but if you want to send these additionally it would help me a lot :)

Types of People They Befriend:

Types of People They Enemise:

Also, check out the pinterest board for this story! My pinterest is rysaspirit and currently there's three boards: one for the characters and outfits, one for the royals, and one that's just for extras and inspirational stuff :)

Until next time!

~Rysa


	3. Christmas Cookies and Snowman Pajamas

First update of 2017, which is really sad because it's already halfway through February whoops.

Happy Valentine's Day everyone! :) I thought I'd post this as a small gift.

Okay, this chapter took so freaking long? I have just not gotten around to writing recently and don't really have a valid excuse, just haven't been feeling it. But I've gotten more inspiration so I hope to update more regularly and frequently! :)

But don't be surprised if I disappear for months again tbh

With that being said, enjoy this chapter! A few new characters introduced here.

* * *

 **Chapter Three: Christmas Cookies and Snowman Pajamas**

 _"It's called holiday spirit, Fay-Fay."_

* * *

On the morning of Christmas Eve, Alistair trudged downstairs in his snowman pajamas and reindeer slippers. He met Holiday along the way, who was sporting a Santa dress. "Happy birthday!" he greeted.

"Did you get me a present?" Holiday asked him cheerfully. Her grin widened as he produced a carefully wrapped box from behind his back. "I love you too, Al!"

"It's your Christmas present too," Alistair warned. "I'm not getting you a separate gift."

His younger sister rolled her eyes, even though she really should have gotten used to his ways by now. "The richest teenager in the country, and you're still too selfish to give your sister two presents."

By now, they had reached the bottom of the stairs and the servants were opening the doors to the dining hall for them. "I might not be the richest teenager. There's always those billionaire families. And I swear, my gift is so good that it'll count as two."

"That's what you say every year," she argued back, as the page cleared his throat. "Ladies and gentlemen, His Highness Prince Alistair and Her Highness Princess Holiday."

As they took their seats at the table, Holiday was greeted with a chorus of birthday wishes. Alistair's eyes widened when he saw who was sitting across from him. "Aunt Cia! You didn't tell me you would be here."

His father's sister smiled back at him. "I got here just an hour ago. I didn't want to wake you up."

"You should have. The boy sleeps enough as it is," Breena joked affectionately. Though the two were only in-laws, Alistair heard that they had been like sisters ever since his father's Selection. Then again, Alistair never minded Cia's visits either. She was fun and a very cool aunt, and when Cia was there, so was Phaedra.

He had been close to his only cousin ever since they were both tiny toddlers. To strangers, she might've seemed stuck-up with her obsessiveness over order and organization, but her family knew her humorous and supportive side.

"Nice outfit, Staircase," Phaedra commented. Her not-so-imaginative nicknames for him had existed for years, and no matter what he did, she would never drop them, so he had given up on stopping her a long time ago.

He took a sip of his hot chocolate, wincing as it nearly burned his tongue off. "It's called holiday spirit, Fay-Fay." He knew he would never beat her at the name game, but he was determined to keep that knowledge from her, knowing how it would inflate her ego.

"Phaedra, did you get me a present?" Holiday inquired. Alistair kicked her from under the table, mentally scolding his sister, but luckily the adults — their parents and Cia as well as their Uncle Lucas — laughed it off.

"I'll give it to you later," Phaedra promised, sharing a glance with Alistair and rolling her eyes jokingly, though he knew that she loved all his siblings and enjoyed every moment she spent with his family. They all loved Phaedra too.

"So, a Selection, Ali Baba?" she asked.

He completely ignored the nickname. "Yeah. Mimi's already agreed to be the royal planner and teach the girls everything, but I was wondering if you could stick around and help her. As an assistant." Though Phaedra had never been high in the line of succession, she still understood the basics of royalty. It would be reassuring to have his cousin around too, in case he messed up and needed someone to talk to.

Phaedra's eyes lit up. She seemed excited already, as he'd expected she would react. "That would be really fun! I'd love to meet all the Selected and scout out your future wife for you, and Mimi's so awesome that working with her would be like a dream."

"You are not scouting out my future wife for me," he said quickly. "Though of course, you can still help me and stuff, let me know who's been acting rude or anything and what they say about me—"

Phaedra only laughed. "In your dreams! I might be around to help, but this is your own love life, dear cousin. You should still be navigating these waters on your own."

"You suck."

"Al!" Breena reprimanded. "Maybe you should stop talking and start eating. Your pancakes are going to go cold, and that would be a waste of the kitchen staff's efforts."

Phaedra and Alistair shared another look, but he did as he was told and started eating. However, he told himself it was only because he was becoming quite hungry and not because of his mother or anything.

Once everyone had finished up and some more presents had been passed to Holiday, Cliff dismissed them and left the room swiftly, mumbling something to his wife about a meeting. Breena looked after him disappointedly for a moment before turning to Alistair. "Ask your valet to find some suitable clothes for the ball tonight," she said, looking at his slippers and shaking her head ever so slightly.

"Mom, I only get to wear these once a year," he defended.

She smiled. "Fine, fine. I'm fine with anything as long as you're feeling happier, and if it's reindeer slippers that does the trick, then that's alright."

Phaedra's arrival had put off the temporary sadness Alistair had felt, and now that his mom mentioned it everything came rushing back to him. Hilliard. The palace. Marriage. "Don't be so sappy, mom," he joked. "Have fun in your trade meetings and stuff. I'm going back up now."

He opened the door to his room to find Owen organizing his closet. "Oh, hey Owen," he said absent-mindedly, sitting down at his desk and opening his computer.

"Good morning, Your Highness," Owen replied. "How was breakfast?"

He answered the truth, but didn't realize how much he seemed like he was pretending until the words had left his mouth. "It was good."

Owen paused in the middle of folding his t-shirts. "I know it's not my place to ask," he began hesitantly, seeming unsure of himself. "But is everything alright, Your Highness?"

It was a step forward for the quiet valet who hadn't made such an effort to speak with him until now. "Yeah, everything's fine," he replied, his eyes glued to his screen as he tried to act indifferent. "It's just… Owen, do you have any friends?"

When Owen gave him a blank look, he quickly realized how rude that must have sounded. "Sorry! I didn't mean it like that at all, I promise."

"It's alright, Your Highness." Owen came to stand next to him a little awkwardly. "It's normal to miss people when you have to leave them. When I first started working here, well, I didn't know anyone and was quite scared. I hated it here. But after a few months, I grew friendly with most of the staff and was content with my job. I still am."

Honestly, Alistair was quite surprised that Owen had told him about his life. He hadn't seemed like the type to open up. But with how quiet he was, he must have been quite perceptive if he'd noticed how badly Alistair missed his friends — or was it just obvious to everyone?

"The Selection might not necessarily be a bad thing, Your Highness," Owen continued, and Alistair wondered where he was getting this burst of bravery from. "You're getting the opportunity to meet thirty-five new girls, and in the end you'll be happy with someone who you can spend the rest of your life with. It hurts to move on, but in the end you'll find something else."

If Owen was ever fired, which Alistair seriously doubted, he'd make a fantastic motivational speaker. "Am I that easy to read?" he joked, not sure what to say after Owen had just made him feel a bit better.

Owen smiled weakly. "It was a bit obvious. But I am always here if you need someone to talk to, Your Highness. I may have only been transferred to this job very recently, but my duty is to help you and I am willing to do so in all aspects."

"I'll keep that in mind. Thanks, Owen." Alistair shut his computer screen, stretching as his valet returned to his chores. "I think I'm going to go for a run to clear my mind. Can you prepare a shower for when I get back? Oh, and it would be awesome if you could also help me pick out an outfit for the ball tonight."

Owen gave him a salute, and he left the room feeling much better than he had when he entered it.

* * *

Alistair wondered if his mom had sought Owen out while he had been on his run, because he found that the dark red suit his valet had prepared matched suspiciously well with the rest of his family.

Breena shrugged innocently when he asked her about it. "Must be a coincidence. Maybe it's because our family has such great chemistry?"

He doubted that matching the color of his sisters' dresses was merely a coincidence, but he pretended to believe her for now. When he took his place next to the wall, he put an arm around Holiday's shoulder. "Not too bad of a party this year, right, Holly?"

"I'm fifteen this year, literally nothing can make this party bad," Holiday joked. Alistair wondered if she'd take that sentence back later when the crusty old nobles and rich people started approaching her.

"That's what you say every —" Breena paused mid-sentence, her eyes lighting up in the way that they only did when his father was around. Alistair looked behind him, and sure enough, the king himself was walking through the doors. "Cliff! I thought you were going to be busy this evening?"

"And miss my daughter's birthday ball?" Alistair's father patted Holiday on the head, even though the entire family knew that Holiday hated being treated like a little kid. "I managed to finish most of my work during the day and no emergencies came up."

Alistair was honestly quite impressed that his father was able to handle such a stressful and tiring job. Even though Cliff was a little impatient and easily irritated at times, Alistair was sure he would die with a workload like that. Often, he wished that his parents had given birth to another child before him. If that had been the case, he wouldn't have been preparing for a Selection and his ascension to the throne. Everything about being king terrified him.

He was drawn out of his thoughts by his stomach rumbling, and he immediately turned even redder than his suit. Luckily for him, nobody had noticed except for Adina, who let out a small, barely-held-in giggle. He decided to go find the refreshments table, seeing as his parents were absorbed in a conversation with the governor of Atlin.

He had just procured a cookie in the shape of a Christmas tree when a familiar voice behind him called, "BOO!" He jumped in shock as he dropped his food, and for a moment he was actually terrified for his life.

His eyes narrowed as he saw who the red-haired, laughing culprit was. "That wasn't nice!" he protested, bending down to pick up the cookie. "Look, my cookie's gone to waste now."

The younger daughter of the governor of Whites was still laughing her head off, holding her stomach. "Your reaction was priceless!" she chortled. "You're such a scaredy-cat!"

"Shut up, Astana," Alistair muttered, equally embarrassed and amused. They'd been good friends since Astana's first day at Hilliard, though they didn't get to talk very often due to conflicting schedules and being in different grades. Nonetheless, he enjoyed her company and found her a fun person to talk to.

"Fine." Astana pouted, but then she brightened again. "I saw the Selection announcement!"

Of course, Astana had to bring up the last thing he wanted to talk about in the whole wide world. He would rather sit for hours in a council meeting with his father's scary advisors or be dropped off in the mountains with nothing but food. "Can we _please_ not bring up the Selection?" he complained.

"I don't see why we shouldn't," Astana said, sounding even more chipper than before, if it was possible. That was the thing about kids, and why he usually tried to avoid them — but somehow ended up getting along with them anyways. "The girls are being announced in a few days! Aren't you looking forward to it?"

He shook his head, picking up and dusting off his cookie from the floor. Even though there was a whole pile of them remaining on the table, he didn't want to waste the food. "Not particularly, no," he mumbled through a mouthful of the icing.

His words must have been a foreign concept for Astana, as she stopped bouncing up and down and cocked her head to the side in obvious confusion. "No?" she repeated, dumbfounded. "Alistair, thirty-five girls are going to come to the palace and compete for you—"

"I know what the Selection is," Alistair interrupted, a tad impatiently. "And what if I don't want that? What if I don't want to have to date multiple girls at the same time while I try and scout out who my wife will be?"

He assumed every boy in the country would probably die for an opportunity similar to the Selection, except him. Alistair had been awkward with girls — rather, people in general —since the day he was born. He was the type to get small crushes on a few people at once, and he was certain that would completely screw up his Selection for him. He'd never had an official girlfriend, nor a proper — he did not like to talk about his tenth grade year — first kiss! Even 14-year-old Astana probably had a better love life than him.

After a moment of silence in which Astana's eyes widened to the size of saucers, she sighed. "I'm sorry," the young girl apologized, her voice hushed and laced with guilt. "I just thought… You know, that you'd wanted a Selection. I didn't realize you might not."

It was a step forward for Astana, who was usually a bit insensitive. "That's alright," he assured her, not having meant to make her upset. In fact, he scolded himself for being so impatient — of course a 14 year old wouldn't have known that he didn't want a Selection. He took a deep breath and lied straight through his teeth. "I don't think the Selection will be that bad, though. Maybe I'll come around through the middle of it and actually find a girl I love. It might just turn out to be a good experience in the end."

Astana brightened up at his white lie. "So you'll put effort into the Selection? You'll try your best to find love with the girls?"

"I'll try my hardest." What choice did he have? Go through months of torture to eventually choose the contestant with the most public support or who fitted the role of queen the best? Or get to know a few of them and marry someone he actually knew well and was close to? All he knew was that he wouldn't find love. After all, aside from his parents, who could find real love on a televised game of broken hearts?

She beamed, taking a cookie from the table herself. "Trust me, Alistair. The Selection will be much better than you're expecting, even if you really hate it right now and don't think you'll be happy or fall in love. When it's dark, there are always stars."

* * *

I've been having a bit of writer's block these past few months and personally don't think this is the best quality of writing I can achieve, but I really don't want to keep you guys waiting for even longer.

If you have any constructive criticism, that's highly appreciated because I really am trying to get better at writing.

Let me know what you thought of Phaedra, or Astana, or Owen!

Until next time! (hopefully not in another two months)

~Rysa


	4. Fireworks

It's been a while, and I'm sorry about that! I'll try and pick up the updating pace, but I'm actually moving in the middle of May, so until then updates might be rare (if there even are any). Don't worry though, I'm trying! ^.^

I know that in the books, it states that Illea's New Year is the same as the Lunar New Year ever since the ASC, so it's somewhere around January-February, but I'm going directly against the canon here. It's my personal opinion that following the lunar calendar just makes things a lot more complicated (and I celebrate Lunar New Year myself, so I'm not trying to be rude).

Therefore, the New Year in my story will be on January 1st, just like the USA right now :)

* * *

 **Chapter Four: Fireworks**

 _"...maybe the Selection and the new year would have its highlights too."_

* * *

Was it wrong that Alistair had never been on the palace roof before?

Yes, he had lived in the palace for the better part of his life, and no, he hadn't just stayed in his room for all those years. Yet he'd never seen the appeal in the rooftop, where it was boiling during the summer and windy during all the other seasons.

But at 11:30 p.m. on December 31st, Alistair could finally feel the magnetism of the rooftop. The temperatures were unforgiving, and had he not been wearing his heavy overcoat, his teeth might've been chattering as much as one of the general's daughters, Joceline Kimbley, who had made the mistake of wearing a knee-length blue dress which didn't provide much protection from the cool weather. But the view of the Angeles city in the distance was spectacular, and he knew this would be a better angle to observe the fireworks than the garden a few floors below.

As one of the guards offered to fetch a jacket for Joceline, Alistair looked out into the city, where every window's light was on as if the whole of Angeles was staying awake for this special day, which might not have been far from the truth. And after he caught a few hours of zz's, he would have to wake up early for the special New Year's Report his parents were making him follow through with, where he would announce the Selected.

To say he was extremely unhappy would be a lie. He was probably more eager than the entire nation put together to see who might be his future wife, but at the same time he was infinitely more worked up than the entire universe. He couldn't remember the last time he had been so stressed.

He looked around for his parents, trying to find them amid the mass of people — how there was still plenty of space left to stand, he wasn't sure, but now he understood why the roof had been built so big, almost 100 years ago, by some random architect whose name he always forgot. Spotting them at the very front of the roof, talking with some businesswoman he didn't recognize, he began making his way towards them, not expecting to trip over someone's foot.

Time suddenly seemed to speed up as the wind _whoosh_ ed past him and he stumbled, but then as he hit the hard, cold floor it slowed down again, as if messing with him. His hands and knees burned from the impact, but worse still was his face, burning from embarrassment.

 _F*ck my life._

He didn't suffer much physical pain because of his thick coat, but for a moment nothing whirled in his head except curse words as he realized he'd effectively caught the attention of all the important people and officials on the balcony.

If his face looked as hot as it felt, he would be the color of an actual tomato. All his future subjects had just witnessed him falling down and had no doubt heard the painfully loud smack. What if people teased him about this for ages? Would they think he was just a kid who wasn't ready to ascend — which wasn't too far off from the truth — because he was apparently unable to even keep his balance? He couldn't even go without humiliating himself for an entire day.

He hauled himself to his feet, blocking out the whispers that had ensued as his overprotective mother made a mad dash for him through the crowd. "Are you okay?" she demanded, grabbing his arm and dusting off his coat. "Did you get hurt anywhere?"

As if things couldn't get more embarrassing. Alistair loved Breena, he really did, but nobody wanted to be fussed over by their mother in front of everyone, especially not when they'd just suffered public humiliation."I'm fine, mom," he reassured her, and it wasn't a complete lie either since the stinging in his hands had subdued. His eyes darted around nervously, trying hard to avoid the judgmental looks everyone seemed to be shooting his way. "I just tripped. It's not like I broke any bones or anything."

He locked eyes with the girl who had tripped him. She was a pretty girl, really, with hair the color of falling leaves and a faint smattering of freckles across her nose.

"I apologize sincerely, Your Highness," she said, sounding flustered despite standing with confidence. "It's completely my fault."

Of course, of all the things he had to trip over it would be a person instead of some nice tree root who wouldn't say anything — actually, what would a tree root be doing on a rooftop? "No, no, it's not," he insisted. "I'm sorry, Miss…?"

She had just opened her mouth, about to reply, when it hit him as hard as he'd hit the floor. "Raisa, right? Astana's sister?" The physical resemblances between Astana and her older sister were almost too obvious once he'd looked at her closer.

The corners of her mouth tilted into a smile, showing her happiness at being recognized. "Yes, that's me. Astana's mentioned me before?"

"In almost every conversation," Alistair confirmed. "I can tell how much she cares about you just by how she talks about you." He understood their sibling bond; he loved Adina, Holiday and Isabelle more than anyone else in the world and they were the people in his life that he could always go to.

Raisa was cut off yet again from replying as Adina ran up to them, almost as if she'd read his mind. "Alistair!" she called breathlessly. "Come with me to the front of the balcony! The fireworks are starting soon!" She then lowered her voice. "And why is everyone staring at you?"

A quick glance around the balcony confirmed Adina's statement, and Alistair held back a groan. Turning back to Raisa, he let his smile show again. "Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Raisa. Say hi to Astana later for me." He waved goodbye before allowing himself to be dragged by Adina to the front of the balcony, where the view of the fireworks would undeniably be the best.

Phaedra greeted him there, along with the rest of his family — except Holiday, who was somewhere with her friends. "Airhead. You ready for the new year?"

Would he ever be? "Hell no." This prompted Breena to reprimand him quietly on his language.

"I'm definitely ready for one thing," Isabelle added into the conversation, looking genuinely excited.

Alistair snorted. "What, Alvar's visit?" The Swendway family visited Illea every year for Alistair's birthday celebrations, and one of the Swendish princes was a close friend of Isabelle's. He'd often privately wondered whether Alvar might have a crush on Isabelle, but never dared to ask them about it.

"I don't know what you're hinting at," Isabelle said fiercely, frowning. "I was talking about the announcement of the Selected. I'm so glad they're making you announce it early so everyone can find out about it earlier. It's like the perfect New Year's present!"

And here he was again, being faced with the topic of the Selection. He supposed it was hopeless to try and avoid it when the girls would be here in two days.

Adina slipped her small hand through Alistair's, and he squeezed it gently. "Do people really get presents on New Year's? How come I never get any?"

"Here's one, then." He planted a kiss on Adina's forehead, while also realizing she'd grown many inches since he'd left for Hilliard the previous summer. Puberty was a scary thing; in a couple of years she would be his height and would no longer be his precious little sister. She frowned, but didn't say anything as he straightened; and right on time too, for the first firework had just exploded in the sky.

He turned to look out in awe, appreciating the sight as people around him snapped pictures of the carnival of brightly colored fireworks. Though it was silly of him, the hues filling the sky gave him hope, and he thought that maybe the Selection and the new year would have its highlights too.

He jokingly thought of something to add onto Astana's quote. _When it's dark, there are always stars. And occasionally fireworks._

* * *

Alistair's first 'day' of the New Year did not start well as he opened his eyes to Owen saying his name frantically. "What?" he murmured groggily as he sat up, rubbing his eyes to clear them of the sand that had built up in the approximate six hours of sleep he'd managed.

"It's 9 o' clock, Your Highness," Owen told him, looking extremely anxious. "You have to be in the Report studio by 10, to announce the Selected."

 _Sh*t, what?_ Alistair threw off his blanket, automatically panicking. He wouldn't have time to do anything! He ran past Owen, only to trip over his chair leg and fall inelegantly.

"Don't freak out, Your Highness!" his valet said, though the warning came a bit late. "I ordered some breakfast from the kitchen, and I've already chosen a suit for you. We'll get you ready on time." He sounded nervous, like his job depended on this.

Alistair finished his breakfast (a croissant and some fruit) in fifteen minutes and cleaned himself up in the bathroom before putting on his suit. "Thanks, Owen," he called as he left his room adjusting his tie, with twenty minutes to spare.

He stopped in his tracks once he'd entered the Report studio, his eyes widening at the basket Phaedra was holding. "Are those… the forms?"

"Yep." Phaedra took one of the sealed envelopes out of the basket, waving it in his face. It was labeled neatly with the province name, 'Likely'. "They've already been picked from the provinces. All you have to do is open their form and read their name, caste and province. It's easy."

Despite Phaedra's words, Alistair felt his heartbeat speed up at the realization that he would be reading the name and province of his future wife. This was the moment when he'd first know who the candidates for queen were. He might even end up marrying the girl from Likely, whose submission Phaedra had in her hands. He groaned loudly. "I can't believe I'm going to see my future wife's face."

Breena smiled. "I'm sure your father was feeling the same way. But he ended up with me after the Selection, so I'm sure the family luck will continue."

Alistair suppressed his smile. "More like, the family ego has continued. Where is dad anyways?"

His mother's smile fell, but before she could reply, Aaden ran over to them. "Alistair, when you open the envelope you're going to have to place the girl's photo on the podium. There's a rectangle marked out onto the surface. Try and have it placed as exact as possible, so the camera will be able to pick up the entire photo."

"Got it." Alistair looked at Phaedra's basket of envelopes again.

"Oh, and you'll be standing onstage by yourself, since it's a special announcement segment, but the other royals will be coming on afterwards to give a few words."

Alistair's brow furrowed. "Wait, what?" But Aaden had already disappeared to talk to the camera crew, and he could only groan and start mentally reading his somewhat-prepared speech.

Within a few minutes, he heard Aaden's call and made his way to the center. As the host began the countdown, Alistair looked at the basket which had been placed next to the podium. All thirty-five of those girls were going to be here in two days, but only one was going to stay at the palace forever. One of them was going to win his heart. He was going to fall in love.

"Greetings, people of Illea! Welcome back to your weekly Illea Capital Report! I'm Aaden, your charming and humorous host. Today is a day all of the girls across Illea have been anticipating; Prince Alistair, who is also very charming and humorous, will be revealing which thirty-five girls have been drawn to compete for his heart!"

The studio audience burst into applause as Alistair moved closer to his microphone stand. "Thank you, Aaden," he said, looking into the camera. "I know you're all excited, so let's not waste any time!"

Ignoring the persistent shaking in his hands, he took the first envelope from the basket, labelled with 'Hansport'. The first Selected. The first possible girl to be his wife. He almost dropped the photo while trying to take it out, but eventually got the form and photo out, placing the photo on the designated spot. "From Hansport, Lady Soonja Choi of Caste Four." A girl with sleek black hair and pale skin looked into the camera, smiling. She was clearly of New Asian descent, and he was pleased that the first contestant in his Selection had already added diversity. How far Soonja Choi would make it in the Selection was unbeknownst to him, and only time would tell.

The shaking lessened considerably as he read out the names and provinces of the next few Selected, hailing from Sota, Zuni and Dominica. He was surprised to see a familiar face as he placed the next applicant's photo onto the podium. "From Fennley, Lady Myra Flick of Caste Two." He'd watched the Olympics and other sporting events enough times to recognize the young rhythmic gymnast and wondered why she had signed up for his Selection.

He was taken by surprise again further on into his announcement, almost dropping the entire envelope back into the basket. His voice wavered slightly as he read out the applicant. "From Sonage, Lady Mona Tawfeek of… Caste Eight."

He could hear a collective gasp from the report audience, as well as his family to the side of the stage. An Eight in a Selection was completely unheard of. Eights didn't receive Selection forms. This was the first Eight in history to be participating in a Selection, and he knew the press would be going crazy after this.

However, the next Selected was even more unexpected, and he almost forgot to place her photo down in his shock. His fingers fumbled with the form for a second before he was able to read out her name. "From Whites, Lady Raisa Yeshevsky of Caste One." Had Raisa expected this? He realized that Raisa might've been watching the Report from her guest room upstairs and was still shocked over the coincidence as he read the next few names.

"From Likely, Lady Delia Sailor of Caste Seven." The name sounded vaguely familiar to him, but he wasn't sure from where. He was almost positive it was from some news article long ago, however. Looking at the other parts of her form, he added, "who I would also like to wish a happy birthday to." Being Selected was probably a good birthday gift, right? Still, he wasn't sure if he should prepare a small present or anything for Delia when she came to the palace.

"From Baffin, Lady Effie Feena of Caste Two." The Indian girl portrayed in the picture looked like she was someone who smiled constantly, despite her job being stated as a politician intern. Alistair wondered if they might be able to connect over her job.

The next few girls didn't leave too much of an impression on Alistair, but as he picked up the next envelope he saw the 'Belcourt' written on it and knew this one would be talked about by the press too. His mother was from Belcourt, and he wondered whether the contestant would make it as far as the queen had. "From Belcourt, Lady Violet Harris of Caste Three."

"From Hudson, Lady Victoria Anders of Caste Two."

A few more names passed, and only three remained in the basket now. Alistair chose the one that was closest to him. "From Lakedon, Lady Estelle Varity of Caste Four." Lady Estelle was another one whose looks stood out to him, though he'd decided not to judge girls by appearance.

"From Honduragua, Lady Cassiopeia Gonzales of Caste Seven." Lady Cassiopeia had red hair, though darker than Raisa's.

"And our final contestant!" Alistair took a deep breath as he tore open the envelope which bore the province of his school and silently prayed that none of his fangirls from Hilliard had been Selected. However, he was hit with the biggest shock, even more than when he'd found Raisa's form inside the envelope. He had to take a moment to recollect his thoughts as an all-too-familiar face was shown on the screen behind him. "From Allens… Lady Halynn Aster of Caste Two."

A million questions were running through his head and he was beyond confused, but he had to hide it as Aaden started asking him questions. "That was certainly interesting, Your Highness! Even just by their pictures, I can already tell we have a unique group. What are your thoughts?"

"Um…" Alistair obviously hadn't prepared a reaction speech, so he thought of something random quickly. "I hope all the girls who have been Selected are happy. I'm really excited to meet them."

Aaden raised an eyebrow. "Any in particular that stood out to you?"

 _Raisa. Halynn._ "Maybe, maybe not," Alistair responded, giving the audience a mysterious smile as some of the Selected popped into his mind.

He nodded. "Let's welcome the rest of the royal family onto the stage!" The studio audience started clapping and Alistair was relieved that his portion was over. Breena gave a few words of advice to the Selected and also passed on a message from Cliff, while his sisters were excited at the prospect of another girl joining their family (like they needed any more). After the Report had signed off, Alistair nearly collapsed next to the stage. His head was already exploding with names and faces which he couldn't tell apart or match.

"Phaedra, I'm going to need your help," he admitted. His cousin was happy to assist him, and that was how he found himself in his room with Phaedra separating the girls into alphabetically ordered piles with five per pile, the photos placed neatly beside the forms.

"Which ones can you remember right now, Alisbear?" she asked.

Alistair frowned at the nickname, something that his older relatives had started calling him when he was 5. "Halynn. Raisa. The Eight girl, Molly or something?"

"Mona," Phaedra corrected, after taking a glance at her form. "Anyone else?"

"Estelle, Delia, Cassiopeia," Alistair recited. Thankfully, the names and faces were appearing in his head almost immediately. "Viola?"

"Violet."

Alistair grinned, glad he was somewhat close. His memory wasn't so bad, and he was hoping to memorize at least everyone's name before they arrived in two days. That way, he would avoid any awkward conversations. "I was close."

"Moving on. This Gillian Fitzroy girl has the same last name as the French king, which is certainly interesting."

"Oh yeah, I noticed that," he remarked. "She's a French diplomat or something right?"

Phaedra sighed loudly. "She's a taxi driver."

That wasn't what Alistair had been expecting, but he nodded. "Alright."

"Who are the some of the sixteen year olds in the competition?"

"Suri and… Beatrice?" he guessed, remembering them from reading the names on the Report.

Phaedra looked proud. "Almost. Her name is Beatrix. Suri is a conspiracy theorist while Beatrix is a nurse."

His mouth dropped open. "A sixteen year old can be a conspiracy theorist?"

She shrugged, before moving onto the next stack of forms. "What province is Jasmine Halcyon from?"

"Carolina?" When Phaedra give him a thumbs up, he laughed. "I'm great at this."

Just as he'd finished his sentence, the door opened and Owen walked in with a pile of laundry. Seeing Phaedra and Alistair at the desk, he stopped and bowed respectfully while still holding onto the clothes. "Oh, sorry, Your Highness. I didn't know you would be in here."

"That's okay, you're not disturbing anything." Alistair glanced at the size of the pile and felt bad for Owen briefly. "This is my cousin, Phaedra. Phaedra, this is my valet, Owen."

Owen was about to bow, but Phaedra stuck out her hand so he shook her hand instead after setting down the laundry. "It's nice to meet the person Alistair is going to depend on to get everything done," she joked. "Good luck dealing with this sloth for much longer." He didn't respond, but cracked a smile and started busying himself with folding the clothes.

"Hey, that girl's form says skateboarding is one of her hobbies," Alistair said quickly when Phaedra didn't say anything. "I'm sure she'd get along well with Holly."

She snapped out of it almost immediately, leading him to believe he must've imagined the look in her eyes. "Holiday is going to be so happy to find out," she said. "Lyndon's a rancher. She must love horses."

"I should take her to the stables sometime," he suggested. "Introduce her to some of ours. She'll probably be better with them than I am."

Phaedra snorted. "Anyone is probably better with the horses than you are. I think Gingersnap has a serious grudge against you." She was referring to the white horse that seemed determined to kill Alistair every time she saw him, probably for giving her the name 'Gingersnap' when she clearly wasn't ginger in color.

"So maybe going to the stables isn't the best idea," Alistair said, laughing nervously as the angry horse popped into his mind. "You know, I think it's time for lunch now. Let's continue this later? After all, I still have two more days."

He still had two more days until everything would be changed forever.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Let me know what you think, I always appreciate feedback :)

Until next time!

~Rysa


	5. Nice to Meet You, Part 1

I didn't actually write the meetings into this chapter, but they will definitely be in the next, so stay tuned for that. We get to meet a few more of the Selected in this chapter though.

Again, if you haven't submitted your character's form yet, please do get it in soon!

* * *

 **Chapter Five: Nice to Meet You, Part 1**

 _"Badasses have to stick together..."_

* * *

The girls started arriving in the morning.

As soon as he was fully conscious, Alistair threw a cartoon sweatshirt over his pajamas and ran a comb through his hair quickly. He flung open his curtains, wincing as the morning rays hit his face.

Mimi had texted him the times the girls would be arriving, if everything went according to plan. They were staggered into seven times throughout the day, according to the locations of their provinces. A brief glance at the clock told him the first group of girls (coming from Angeles, Sonage, Fennley, Likely and Belcourt) would be here within the next ten minutes.

Alistair opened the window, allowing the morning breeze into the room as he peered out. The noise of someone entering his room came from behind him, and he turned around to see Owen walking in with a basket of towels, which he nearly dropped when he saw Alistair. "I didn't think you would be awake already, Your Highness," he said, setting the basket next to the door.

"Don't get used to it," Alistair said lazily as he turned back to the window.

The most memorable girl from those provinces was undoubtedly Lady Mona Tawfeek of Sonage, the first Eight participating in a Selection since Illea had been formed, but there were also notable names such as Myra Flick or Delia Sailor. Alistair had forgotten to research why exactly the name Delia Sailor sounded familiar, but he hoped he would remember once he met her.

One of these girls might be the future queen of Illea, and the mother of his children. The realization that the girl he would fall in love with was already on her way to the palace struck him like Phaedra throwing one of her textbooks at his face. Though it was fabricated, it was also exciting, this game he would be playing for the next few months.

He almost screamed in excitement as he spotted some movement around the gate, before remembering that he was a 19 year old prince and not a hyper little kid. "Owen, look! I think they're coming!"

Owen stopped straightening his blankets (which were looking considerably better) to come and stand by him, looking in the same direction. Alistair could see a black mini-van that had just stopped in front of the gate. With bated breath, he watched as the gate clanged open and the mini-van slowly rolled towards the palace.

It stopped by the fountains. Alistair shivered despite his sweatshirt as five ladies stepped out of the mini-van. A guard removed their suitcases from the trunk, and he wondered what some of the girls had brought from their homes. After all, the palace provided nearly everything, so it was probably only personal objects.

The fourth floor was too high up for him to see their faces, but he could tell that three of the girls were blondes while the other two had dark hair.

Suddenly, one of the girls looked up. He couldn't see her expression, but he waved hesitantly, just in case she was actually facing his direction. The girl gave a small wave back before following the rest out of sight, and Alistair felt himself grin like an idiot for being noticed.

His first interaction with the Selected, though miniscule, had been a success. He just hoped the girl hadn't noticed the Mickey Mouse design on his top.

* * *

By 1pm, all the girls had arrived and were still in the process of makeovers. Alistair had taken lunch with his sisters, who had told him about the girls they'd seen in the Women's Room already.

"They're all so pretty," Holiday gushed as she stuffed pizza into her mouth. "Even the ones who hadn't finished their makeovers yet! How are you even going to choose, Al?"

Alistair carefully picked off a chunk of pineapple from his slice. He'd gotten Owen to order pizza from a store in town, and it was a nice change from the palace's three-course meals. "Who's the prettiest?"

This caused a fit of giggling between his sisters, and he groaned. "All of them," Adina said. "I can't choose one!"

"Definitely Lady Reese," Isabelle said between laughs. "I wish I looked more like her! She's gorgeous."

Holiday shook her head in disagreement. "Lady Reese is pretty, but did you see Lady Delia? Or Lady Gill? I don't even know which one is the prettiest."

"Why did I even ask you guys?" Alistair muttered, shifting awkwardly as he listened to his sisters talk about the girls' looks. Reese was one of the girls he could remember from the forms. She was from Croyden Prep, a school in Waverly which was a longtime rival of Hilliard. Both were among the best schools in the country (though of course, Hilliard was better). "Did any of them talk to you?"

Holiday nodded. "Lady Layla said hi to me while she was getting her hair styled. She was really nice."

He made a mental note of that and picked up another piece of pizza, this time with less pineapples. "I can't believe I'll meet them in an hour," he admitted, removing the fruit from his pizza.

Adina gave him a quizzical look. "I still don't understand why you don't like Hawaiian," she said. "There's nothing wrong with pineapples on pizza."

"There's _everything_ wrong with pineapples on pizza," Alistair retorted, scowling. "Which asshole decided to slap fruit onto a perfectly fine pizza and bring this abomination into the world?"

"Mr. Hawaii, obviously," Holiday said immediately. "I mean, it's literally in the pizza's name."

Alistair's jaw dropped from disbelief and he turned to Isabelle to see if she had the same reaction.

Her expression mirrored his, her eyes asking the silent question, _is she actually my sister?_ "Um, Holly… Hawaii was the name of a state in the United States of America. Not a person."

"Wait, what?"

After they'd given Holiday a history and geography lesson and finished their pizza, thankfully with no more pineapples, Alistair headed to the hallway on the first floor where the Women's Room was located.

He could hear the buzz of chatter even from outside the Women's Room. Taking a deep breath to steel himself, he knocked on the door.

The talking stopped immediately, and he prepared his best smile as footsteps came towards the door. The door opened and Mimi peered at him.

"Alistair!" she exclaimed, grabbing his hand and pulling him inside. "These ladies were just talking about how excited they are to meet you!"

He regained his balance quickly and yanked his hand away from Mimi's, looking around the room. Seated on various couches and chairs were thirty-five strangers, all with immaculate hairstyles and sophisticated dresses. And even though he'd seen all their faces on the Report already, this wasn't what he'd expected. At all.

Actually, he wasn't even sure what he'd expected. There were some all-too-familiar faces, like Halynn who grinned in his direction like she always had at Hilliard, or Raisa, who refused to meet his eye. Then there were the faces he'd only seen on their forms, the ones who he knew next to nothing about.

"Welcome to the palace, ladies," he said. "I hope you all had a comfortable trip, and that your stay so far has been nothing but pleasant."

Did he sound too formal? Did he sound too informal? Should he make a joke to break the ice?

"I'll be getting to know all of you this evening at the outdoor barbecue party," he continued, not able to think of a good joke. "You'll be taught some basic etiquette by Phaedra and Mimi before then, though you don't need to worry because this will be a casual event. Your maids will start preparing you at five o'clock, and the party will start at six by the stairs in the garden. You can ask any of the staff members if you have trouble finding it."

"It's quite easy to find, really. Just go to the ground floor and exit from the glass doors in the back," Mimi added.

Alistair smiled nervously. "So, um, yeah… I have some duties to attend to, but I can't wait to see you again at the party." Then, before things could get any more awkward, he turned around and left the Women's Room.

* * *

Bandit had never been in a room with so many girls before. Having grown up on a pirate ship nicknamed "Karen" her entire life, she almost never went on land, or interacted with people aside from the boys that took care of her. And even though she had never seen any fancy places aside from the palace, there was no way she could possibly doubt the luxury of the palace for even a second. Everything was gold and shiny and perfect, and there were servants around every corner that were willing to help her with anything.

The one thing Bandit was scared about was the part where it came to meeting new people. She had been excited for this moment ever since she'd received her Selection letter, but now that she was surrounded by many girls, some who had already found their friends, she found it a little difficult to bring herself to socialize.

 _Get over it, Bandit. They're normal girls, just like you._ Though Bandit questioned whether she was really a 'normal' girl.

Taking a deep breath, she started making her way to the 'group' closest to her, which consisted of five girls who seemed to be in a casual conversation. Before she could even say anything, one of the girls turned around and noticed her. "Hi!"

"Hi," she replied, as the two closest to her moved aside to make room for her on their sofa. "Thanks. Um, I'm—"

"Delia, right?" one of them interrupted. She had long dark waves that reached her chest and hid part of her dark purple dress. "I'm Halynn, this is Aislin, that's Gillian, that's Sage and that's Reese."

Bandit's head became dizzy at all the sudden names she had to learn. "No, I'm — Well, yeah, I'm Delia. But actually, I prefer to go by Bandit."

Gillian, a friendly-looking redhead, frowned. "Bandit," she repeated, as if testing out the word. "Interesting nickname. Any particular backstory behind it?"

Bandit's throat dried up. "Um, it's just a little nickname my family gave me," she said.

Gillian nodded. "Well, you all might as well call me 'Gill' then."

"Well, now us people who don't have nicknames are feeling left out," Sage remarked, and they all laughed. Bandit relaxed, realizing that she had chosen good people to approach, and found herself talking easily when a conversation about the prince arose. Halynn also told them some interesting personal experiences, since she was classmates with the prince — Bandit and the others didn't even believe it at first.

They spent the entire afternoon together, until Mimi dashed into the room. Though Bandit hadn't spoken individually with Mimi yet, she already liked the coordinator, who seemed laid-back and friendly. "Girls, there's an hour left until the outdoor party starts, so I'd recommend going back to your rooms and preparing! No matter what, don't be late for the party!"

Bandit followed her new friends as she left the room, and much to her delight, found out her room was right across from Gill and Sage, while Reese and Halynn were in a different corridor. "If we finish early we can go to each other's rooms?" Gill suggested, to which they all agreed enthusiastically to.

Bandit opened her door and was greeted once again by her three maids: Sarah, Emberly and Fallon. "Good afternoon, Bandit," Fallon greeted, since Bandit had told them all to call her by her nickname and not "Lady Delia" the very first time they'd met. "We've set out some outfits for you on the bed, so pick one of them and we'll find the shoes and accessories."

Bandit nodded. "Thanks, guys," she said as she walked over to look at the options, noticing the way Sarah and Emberly frowned at her informality. There were four: a white dress but a pink tulle skirt, a cream dress that had lace along the top and a bow at the waist, a navy blue off-the-shoulder lace dress with long sleeves and a tea-length black dress with beaded detailing.

After a long time dithering, she chose the navy blue dress and her maids set to work doing her hair and makeup. Before the Selection, Bandit had never properly worn makeup either, but she stayed still and obedient while they dabbed powders and creams onto her face. It was when they set out her shoes that she stopped in her tracks.

"No," she said, crossing her arms resolutely.

"Lady— Bandit, the other girls will be wearing heels too," Sarah insisted. "You already have a height disadvantage compared to the others," Bandit frowned, "and wearing these will help you come closer to the prince in terms of height."

Bandit shook her head again. "I'm not going to sacrifice my comfort in order to be as tall as the others," she said, "so it would be appreciated if you could find me some flats or sandals to wear with that dress. Thank you."

Sarah looked personally offended, which Bandit thought was unreasonable, while Fallon and Emberly immediately headed for Bandit's large closet. Eventually, they found a pair of navy blue flats that Bandit deemed good enough. A glance at the clock on her wall told her that there were still twenty minutes left until the party, so she thanked her maids and crossed the hallway, knocking on Gill's door.

"Bandit!" she squealed immediately, almost dragging her inside. "You look so pretty!"

Bandit blushed at the words of her new friend, who looked stunning herself. Her red hair was swept back in a high ponytail and her flowy off-the-shoulder dress matched the color of Bandit's. She briefly considered running back to her room and taking Sarah's heels, since even in flats Gill was many inches taller than her, and Gill wasn't even the tallest of the girls.

Inside Gill's room, Halynn was there too, in a figure-hugging burgundy dress, wide-brimmed black hat and fishnet stockings. "Wow, you look great too, Halynn." Halynn grinned in response, eyeing Bandit's shoes jealously. Compared to Halynn's stiletto heel ankle boots, she definitely had the comfort advantage.

"So, are we ready to go?" Gill asked.

Bandit nodded, until a thought occurred to her. "Wait, but we never got told where the garden is." Actually, she was quite sure that Mimi had told them, but she hadn't been paying attention and it had long slipped her mind.

"Well shit," Gill swore, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. "I guess we'll have to use our own intellect and genius to find it." She noticed that Halynn and Bandit were staring at her, and frowned. "What? Do I have something on my face?"

Bandit burst into laughter almost at the same time as Halynn. "Oh my god, I thought all the girls here were going to be prim and proper," Halynn admitted. "But thank god, I've still got you guys, huh?"

And though she'd only known the two for a few hours, Bandit grinned at her new best friends who had surprisingly more in common with her than she would've expected. "Badasses have to stick together," she said, and they all agreed firmly.

For the first time since arriving at the palace, Bandit felt at home.

* * *

Raisa's corridor was extremely quiet, and she sighed as she realized that the other girls had probably gone down already. There were only a few minutes left until she had to be in the garden, but the heels she was wearing didn't allow for very good movement.

A door in front of her opened, and somebody walked out. Raisa was pleasantly surprised, knowing that she wouldn't be the very last, but her happiness quickly changed to concern when the other girl nearly tripped. "Are you okay?" she called out.

The girl turned towards her, and Raisa realized that it was Mona, the Eight. She'd learnt earlier that day that Mona was no ordinary homeless girl; she was blind, and while it didn't show in her eyes which appeared almost normal, anyone who observed her would realize it was obvious.

Why wasn't Mona carrying a white stick? Or at least have a maid to help guide her way? "Do you need help?"

"No." Mona reached out one arm unsteadily to find the wall, before taking more steps forward. Raisa followed, which Mona seemed to hear because she stopped. "Stop following me."

"I'm going to the garden too," Raisa said, and she swore she saw Mona's frown deepen.

"Look, I appreciate your concern, but I really don't—"

Whatever Mona was going to say, Raisa would never find out, because Mona nearly crashed into a vase of flowers at the side of the hallway. "Careful!" Raisa warned, before rushing over to her. "I'm not feeling sorry for you or anything, but there's several flights of stairs until the ground floor, and I don't want you to end up in the hospital wing because you missed a step and went crashing all the way down. So please just accept my help."

Mona was silent, which Raisa decided was a yes. She took Mona's delicate hand and began leading her carefully down the stairs, stopping whenever Mona slowed down and making sure that she was steady.

After an eon of awkward silence, Mona spoke up. "Thank you." She was quiet, but in the silence it could be heard clearly by both of them.

"There's nothing to be thankful about," Raisa replied. "I'm just helping you."

Mona was quiet for another moment. "That's exactly why I'm thanking you."

Raisa smiled, before remembering that Mona couldn't see it. "Why don't you carry around a white stick?" she asked, out of curiosity.

"Just because I'm blind doesn't mean I can't function properly," Mona said sharply. Raisa frowned, slightly off-put by her attitude, but decided not to question her further. The two walked in a comfortable silence until they were through the glass doors and in the garden, definitely late but not by too much.

"Will you be fine on your own?" Raisa questioned, before biting her tongue as she realized she should have reworded her concerns.

"I'm blind, not stupid," Mona snapped, letting go of Raisa and walking forward, with one arm outstretched as if trying to sense obstacles. Raisa watched her go in both frustration and intrigue. Mona definitely had an attitude problem, but Raisa couldn't help but be impressed that she was still so independent and stubborn, not giving up even when she didn't have eyesight.

People like that, who refused to stop and give up no matter what, were rare in this world, and it was surprising that Raisa had found one in the Eight of the Selection.

At the same time, while she crossed the lawn slowly, Mona was denying to herself that someone had been genuinely nice to her without trying to take pity on her. She stopped when she realized that she didn't even know who it was, though she would definitely be able to recognize the voice if she heard it again.

 _Oh, well. She'll probably insist on helping me back to my room after the party ends._


	6. Nice to Meet You, Part 2

I don't want to sound desperate, but recently I haven't been getting a lot of reviews, which is discouraging to every author. To submitters, I'd say this is even more important because it lets me know whether you care about the future of your character or not.

I know this is largely my fault. I update infrequently and I'm really sorry, I'm trying to fix that. But now it's the summer holidays, and I hope to get out at least two more updates before August. I've been trying my best and I hope to start updating a lot more regularly.

Thank you to ChillyIce and Abizeau for reviewing every single chapter I've uploaded so far! I appreciate the commitment you guys have to this story, even with my terrible uploading 'schedule'!

Lil bit of advertising: A new SYOC has been started recently by Zapautumn, and it's called "Love, If It's Possible". Unfortunately, it's not gaining as much attention as it deserves. I'd recommend checking it out because the writing is really good, and there's tons of open spots left :)

Okay, I'm done talking now XD Enjoy this chapter! It's Alistair's first time meeting the girls and I hope you can let me know what you thought of it :)

* * *

 **Chapter Six: Nice to Meet You, Part 2**

 _"Well, I guess my experience with sausages has been the_ wurst _."_

* * *

It wasn't dark outside yet, but lamps and fairy lights illuminated the gardens. Alistair shoved his hands into his pockets as he paced back and forth around the lawn, waiting impatiently for people to arrive.

He agreed with his mother that a host could never be later than his guests but didn't see the point in arriving a full fifteen minutes early. Save for the kitchen staff that was busy setting up the barbecue grill and food, he was alone in the garden. Checking his watch, he was disappointed to discover that almost no time had passed since he'd last looked.

"Your Highness, would you like us to start cooking the patties or the sausages first?" one of the servants asked. Alistair thought about this for a moment.

"Can you cook half of both?" In all honesty, he had no clue what the girls would like, since 'Do you prefer hamburgers or hotdogs?' hadn't been one of the questions on the form. Alistair himself was 'Team Hotdog', all the way, though he loved hamburgers too. In general, Alistair just enjoyed barbecues. When his parents had approved the idea, Alistair had been ecstatic.

The servant nodded before shouting commands to the people around him. Alistair found the set-up of the party impressive. The foods were split into many sections; one team prepared the hamburger and hotdog buns, while more servants were in charge of patties and sausages, then there were the grilled vegetables, the endless variety of kebabs, and lastly the table to the side that was filled with condiments, utensils, and drinks. He couldn't wait to serve himself one of the hotdogs.

Unfortunately, it would have to wait, because the first few Selected were starting to enter the garden. While the others wandered slowly as if admiring the scenery, one girl approached him with confidence that he wished he had.

"Good evening, Your Highness." She dropped into an unsteady curtsy. Alistair's memory instantly told him the girl was Jasmine Halcyon. She was wearing a flowy blush dress which contrasted against her darker skin and hair nicely. The look was leaning towards the casual side, but that was exactly what Alistair had hoped for when he'd announced it was an outdoor party.

"Okay, please don't curtsy to me," he joked. Usually he wouldn't be so quick to act informal, but how was he supposed to form connections with these girls if they kept on curtsying to him and calling him 'Your Royal Highness'? He was going to make sure all the girls treated him like an equal. "And calling me Alistair is fine. Would it be alright if I only called you Jasmine?"

He didn't want to offend any of the girls, but he found the whole 'Lady' shebang frustrating like he did with many other formal matters. Luckily, Jasmine complied. "Of course," she said, "Lady Jasmine is a bit…" She trailed off as if looking for the right word. "Extravagant?"

Alistair relaxed. It was the first girl in the Selection he had talked to (if you didn't count Halynn and Raisa, of course) and things were already going well. "That's exactly how I feel about 'Your Highness,'" he admitted, and Jasmine chuckled. Feeling a bit more confident, he asked, "Do you prefer hamburgers or hotdogs?"

She seemed taken aback at his random question but answered quickly. "I'm partial to both. But after trying some of the best sausages in the German Federation, my hotdog standards are very high." Right; she was the archaeologist who liked traveling, so she'd probably tried a multitude of different foods before.

This was the type of person Alistair wanted to marry — someone who could hold a serious conversation with him about trivial topics like hotdogs. Not that he could picture himself married to Jasmine yet, of course. "Well, I recommend trying one of the palace hotdogs to see if they're up to par." An idea struck him, and he paused, unsure. "Maybe… later we could get hotdogs together?"

 _Very romantic, Alistair. Eat hotdogs with one of your thirty-five girlfriends. And you wonder why those girls always laugh at your attempts to write a love poem._ However, Jasmine seemed to like the idea.

Alistair spotted a few more girls approaching, as well as some already spreading out on the various tables and seating available, and realized reluctantly that it was time to end their brief conversation.

A quick glance at his watch told him two minutes were remaining until six, and sure enough, many of the Selected were assembled. He discovered that a large group of his Selected, namely Beatrix, Layla, Suri, Lyndon, and Effie, were already sitting down at one of the tables. It seemed like a good place to start.

"Good evening," he greeted. They all looked like they were about to stand up and curtsy, so he said quickly, "Please stay seated, there's no need to curtsy. And before you start calling me Your Highness, I'd prefer it if you addressed me as Alistair."

"Wow, you prepared a speech," Layla commented, amusement twinkling in her light brown eyes.

Alistair laughed as he sat down in between Lyndon and Beatrix, which revived his confidence as both were only around 5'3" in height. "I originally wrote a longer self-introduction, but I decided to spare you ladies the torture." He paused, before adding, "Is it alright if I call all of you your names instead of adding Lady at the beginning?"

They all nodded, much to his relief.

"I hope you all like barbecues?" he said unsurely.

Beatrix's nose wrinkled. "Do you have anything else?" she asked, though her tone was polite.

"Well… I'm pretty sure there are some leafy vegetables over by the condiments," Alistair offered, mentally panicking. Of course, there would be some girls in his Selection that didn't like unhealthy food. Why hadn't he prepared more 'healthy' options? Beatrix didn't seem too pleased with his answer. "And… uh… some fruit?"

As if sensing his predicament, Lyndon said, much to his gratitude, "I like barbecues!"

Suri, Layla, and Effie all seemed to agree, which Alistair was relieved about since he was pretty sure Beatrix wasn't his biggest fan at the moment.

"Lyndon, you're a rancher?" he asked. He'd noticed when he sat down that Lyndon was wearing cowboy boots underneath her dress, which he'd never seen before but thought was pretty cool.

Lyndon nodded. "We have a lot of horses back home in Dakota."

"And you're good with horses?"

"I love horses," Lyndon responded, a bit of passion returning to her eyes. "They're beautiful animals, and I feel grateful that I got to grow up around them. You have stables here, right?"

Alistair nodded, secretly hoping that Lyndon was some kind of horse whisperer so she could make Gingersnap hate him less. Alistair had been riding horses since his childhood, but when it came to bonding with the animals, it became increasingly difficult for him.

He continued asking more about the girls, and after a few minutes, Violet joined their table with a plate of food. By the end, when everyone seemed to be getting hungrier, he felt he had a good grasp of everybody's character.

Suri was curious about his life at the palace, while Layla and Effie were humorous and sassy. Beatrix was less chipper than the others, but he suspected that she was only shy so didn't make any judgments yet. He already liked Lyndon, and was also pleasantly surprised to find out that charming Violet was a music producer and had produced many of the pop songs he fancied.

However, after talking to so many people at once, his head was spinning, and his stomach was begging for some of the kebabs he'd seen the staff grilling. He grabbed a paper plate and filled it with some of the kebabs they had to offer. While looking for a seat, his eyes fell on a blonde girl who was eating alone.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked. The girl looked up in surprise; had she not seen him coming? Her cheeks turned very pink, which he thought was kind of cute.

"Of course not, Your Highness," she replied quickly, nearly tripping over her words. Her nerves were apparent, and it was evident that his presence terrified her. That was clearly not a good sign.

Alistair sighed, "Just Alistair, please." He slid onto the bench so that he was directly across from her and studied her for a moment. It took him a few seconds, but then he recognized her as Myra Flick, the rhythmic gymnast.

"I've watched some of your performances before," he said, thinking it was a good starter. Then he frowned. "Wait, is 'performance' the correct term?"

"I'm not sure either," Myra admitted, though she didn't say anything else. Alistair guessed she wasn't the talkative type and knew he would have to do the work himself.

"Anyways, I could really see why you're considered one of the best rhythmic gymnasts in the world," he said, "It must've taken many years of practice to become that good!"

Alistair thought he saw an uncomfortableness flash in Myra's blue eyes but decided that he'd probably imagined it as she accepted his praise humbly.

They ate in a comfortable silence for a while, which he found he didn't mind. After finishing one of his kebabs, he looked at her plate, which only had a few grilled vegetables on it as well as two clean skewers. "Are you not really a hamburger or hotdog person?"

Myra stiffened, which was the first real sign of discomfort Alistair had noticed from her. "I… don't have a big appetite," she said hesitantly. Again, was it his imagination or did she sound hurt?

He chided himself mentally for upsetting her again.

"Hey, it's okay," he reassured. "I was just wondering."

Myra's smile still didn't appear, and as soon as she finished her last piece of grilled zucchini, she stood up. "I'm not feeling good," she said, her words rushed as she refused to meet his eye. "Is it okay if I go back to my room now?"

Alistair blinked for a few moments. "Huh?… Oh yeah, of course, no problem!" He stood up along with her. "I hope you feel better soon."

She could only manage a small smile before she turned around and practically ran back towards the palace doors. He watched her go rather sadly, wondering how the conversation had turned so bad.

To lift his spirits up, he looked for a particular girl he was well acquainted with, and found her with Gillian Fitzroy and Delia Sailor near the drinks table, mixing what looked like lemonade and apple juice together. "I bet that'll taste great," he called out, causing them to turn around at his irony-laced words. "Hey."

"You never know until you try something, hmm?" Halynn asked, holding one of the plastic cups out to him. Alistair looked at it skeptically and shook his head, causing her to take it back.

"Gillian, I've been curious about something," he said, and she instantly became attentive. "Are you related to the French royal family? After all, your last name…" Fitzroy had been the French royal family's last name for centuries.

Gillian nodded, "King Gabriel is my cousin." This surprised Alistair; though she was from a low caste, she was directly related to French royalty! If Phaedra ever found this out, she would probably encourage Alistair to marry Gillian just for the sake of foreign relations.

As his thoughts wandered to his own cousin, he realized with a start that he hadn't seen Phaedra yet that night. He'd assumed that she would come, even if it was to make sure all of the Selected stayed in line, but apparently not.

"I saw that it was your birthday on January 1st," he told Delia. "Um, I forgot to get you a present or anything, but if you want one, I can always find one for you. I just wasn't sure what you wanted."

Delia laughed. "Oh no, that's perfectly fine! Actually, I'm usually not on land so I don't keep track of time that well. I have no idea when my actual birthday is. January 1st seems like a cool day though, so I decided to fill that in on my Selection form."

Gillian and Delia — or as Alistair later found out: 'Gill' and 'Bandit' — reminded him of any average girl at Hilliard, which he was grateful for. He could see why Halynn had befriended them, and after talking with all three of them for a while, he dragged Halynn aside.

"You owe me an explanation," he said, pointing a finger at her.

Halynn rolled her eyes. "Explanation for what?"

"Why did you sign up for the Selection?" he demanded.

"To do what I always do," she replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Protect you from the fangirls, find things out about them to make sure you don't end up with anyone terrible. The usual. By the way, two of the girls are completely in love with you. It's hilarious; they make me want to laugh and cry at the same time. They're even worse than that girl from our tenth-grade year — what's her name again? E-something—"

"Alright, that's enough, Halynn," Alistair interrupted pointedly. "I… I appreciate your caring, I guess. But I don't think you really should continue to 'protect' me."

She scowled. "And why not?"

He said, "By that I mean, don't physically protect me or try to scare off anybody. I'm supposed to be dating them, so lay off on the threats." Halynn opened her mouth to protest, but he continued quickly before she could. "But if you want to report to me any information about the girls, that would be helpful."

Now he could have an insider from the Selection, in case there was ever any drama. Halynn was trustworthy, and he was glad he had someone familiar participating in the Selection.

"And let me make one thing clear," Alistair said. Halynn raised an eyebrow. "I can't fall in love with you."

She burst out laughing, and he joined in. "Ew! That would be so gross! You're like a brother to me, Al."

Despite the kebabs, his stomach was rumbling. Remembering his hotdog invitation to Jasmine, he quickly found her at a big table, talking to Hilda and Estelle animatedly. After excusing them, he dragged her towards the grill station.

"I thought you forgot about me or something," Jasmine joked.

Alistair pretended to be offended. "Do you really think I'd forget?" He served himself a hotdog while Jasmine did the same, topping his hotdog off with lots of ketchup and mustard. He hated mayo with a passion.

"Should I count us in?" Alistair asked. She rolled her eyes but complied. "This moment is one to be remembered," he said dramatically, "Jasmine Nalani Halcyon's first time trying a palace hotdog."

"Wait, how did you remember my middle name too?"

"Three, two, one!" Alistair took a bite of his hotdog, though he was more focused on Jasmine's reaction. She kept a complete poker face.

"What do you think?" he asked.

Jasmine made a face. "If you covered this hotdog with all the salt in the sea, it would still taste bland," she decided. Alistair's mouth dropped open.

"Germany's sausages are that good?" Now, he wanted to go to Germany and try their sausages too.

She smiled wistfully. "You haven't tried real sausage until you've been to Germany and had Bratwurst. Or Currywurst, which is great too."

"Well, I guess my experience with sausages has been the _wurst_ ," he quipped, trying to hold in his laughter. He laughed at his jokes too much. It was embarrassing.

Much to his relief, Jasmine burst out laughing too, though he had a feeling it was because the pun was so terrible it was good. At least she didn't immediately ask to leave.

They finished their hotdogs, though Jasmine was reluctant, and then she dragged him back to the table she had been at before. Luckily for him, they were all girls he hadn't talked to yet, except for Violet, so he could get to know more girls quicker.

"Welcome, Your Highness," Estelle said, her accent different from what he usually heard in Illea. He wondered if she was a foreigner or if she had lived overseas before.

"Actually, he prefers being called Alistair," Violet interjected, smiling at him. He was grateful that he didn't have to announce it to everyone at the table because it had gotten tiring after talking to many.

"Sorry, Alistair," Estelle said. She tucked a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear self-consciously.

Alistair looked around the table, noticing that Emma and Olivia were talking together and seemed absorbed in the conversation. They already appeared to be good friends, which wasn't surprising; they were both Fives. When he briefly cut in, he found out that both Emma and Olivia were sweet and likable, Olivia even giving him a handmade clay bowl which he pocketed.

Estelle looked like she was on good terms with Victoria, who seemed a little more rigid but also enjoying herself. When Alistair asked Victoria a few questions, he found out her parents owned a fashion company that Isabelle and Adina were obsessed with. Though Alistair didn't know anything about fashion, he was going to pass this information onto his little sisters later, who he knew would freak out.

Estelle's accent turned out to be from London since that was where she had grown up. However, Estelle didn't seem keen to talk about herself, always directing the question towards him instead when he asked about her childhood. Having learned his lesson with Myra, Alistair abandoned the topic altogether to talk to Hilda.

"I've noticed that on your form it says you're a part-time volleyball coach," he remarked. "But you're a Five…?"

Hilda looked flustered. "Oh, I just help coach a few people for fun," she said quickly. "It's not an official profession because I don't get paid or anything."

"So you like volleyball?"

"A lot," Hilda said, smiling. "Do you play, Alistair?"

The gym teacher at Hilliard seemed to have a special spot for volleyball since every year they would play it multiple times. Alistair usually tried to get a nurse's pass excusing him from physical activity whenever the occasion popped up. Volleyball was painful. He didn't understand how so many people could handle it. "I'll tell you guys a secret. I'm terrible at volleyball," he disclosed, and everyone gasped dramatically.

"I'll have to teach you sometime," Hilda said, and Alistair found himself grinning.

"Yeah, good luck with that." She would certainly regret her words once she tried.

Olivia yawned. "I'm going to go get some more of those burgers," she announced as she pushed back her chair and left, Emma following her.

After talking to a few more girls, none of who really left an impression on him, he felt hungry — again — and was pleased to see that the staff had placed fresh fruit on another table. He served himself some apple slices, green grapes, and a banana, and when he turned around to leave he nearly bumped into another Selected.

"Ahh, sorry!" he yelped as he stepped backward. He came face to face with the first girl he'd announced on the Report: Soonja Choi, a businessman's daughter from Hansport.

"Oh, no, please don't be, Your Highness!" she said, looking apologetic.

Something about her demeanor made him hesitant to call her 'Soonja' instead of 'Lady Soonja'. He couldn't pinpoint what caused him to feel that way, but she just had that air about her. "No, really, I should have been careful."

"It's alright, Your Highness," she said, "After all, no damage has been done, and you didn't bump into me."

She had a point, so he decided to drop the matter. He waited for her to fill her plate up with fruit before they rested at a table nearby. "You're from New Asia, aren't you?" he asked.

"Yes," Soonja replied, after she had finished chewing, "My ancestors originate from South Korea, however, I have lived in Illea my whole life."

"Oh, that's cool." Alistair's little sister Isabelle was studying Korean since she wanted to learn all the languages of the world. Meanwhile, the only Korean word Alistair knew was pajipeoseo, which Prince Hyun-min had taught him, but telling someone to take their pants off wasn't the best first impression he could hope for. "Do you like Illean food?"

Soonja nodded. "I like cooking."

Well, at least one of them had some culinary skills. "What else do you like?" he questioned.

She blushed. "Well, my hobbies are also singing and drawing."

This girl was qualified to become a Disney princess. "You'll have to sing for me sometime, Lady Soonja. I'm sure your voice is beautiful." He became distracted as he saw Raisa lead Mona past them, briefly wondering how the One and the Eight had palled up.

After exchanging goodbyes, Alistair headed after the table Raisa and Mona had gone to. "Good evening, ladies," he greeted.

"Your Highness," Raisa said, standing up and curtsying.

Alistair felt his cheeks heat up. "Just Alistair, please."

"Okay then, Just Alistair," Mona joked, her eyes looking in his general direction instead of directly at him.

Alistair frowned as he noticed this. He looked towards Raisa and made a shrugging gesture, then pointed to his own eyes. Raisa covered both her eyes in answer. Though their 'sign language' probably looked weird and awkward to passersby, it was enough to understand Raisa's meaning.

Mona was blind.

Unsure of what he should do with this new information, he decided to talk to Raisa instead, asking about what it was like to shadow her father and how Astana was doing. Much to his surprise, she revealed that she hadn't signed up, but Astana had filled in her form without telling her. He was relieved to hear that Raisa didn't mind it now.

"Sounds like Astana," Alistair murmured. He knew it was probably proper he talked to Mona now, but the truth was he'd never actually interacted face-to-face with any Eights before. Bringing up her caste was probably an awful idea.

Eventually, he found something to ask. "Do you like the food here, Mona?" The paper plate in front of her was empty, but there were visible oil stains on the bottom that indicated she must've finished her food already. Meanwhile, Raisa's plate didn't have any of the oily, fatty food on it, and she was sipping plain water.

"Oh, yeah," she replied, though she didn't sound too enthusiastic. "It's delicious. The burgers are nice."

"Did you get a lot of opportunities to eat?" he blurted out. He was curious, but he realized it probably wasn't the best question. Raisa was probably cringing at his ineptness. "I mean since you were… Um…"

"An Eight?" Mona asked, and he swore he could hear some amusement laced in her words. "No need to beat around the bush, you know." Before he could defend himself, she continued. "And to answer your question: no, we don't get a lot of food at the homeless shelter. So this is a nice change. And if you don't mind, I'd like to enjoy this food for a while longer."

He wasn't 100% sure if she was joking. But for now, he decided, Mona would stay. She hadn't done anything to offend him, and while she was not on his parents' list of favorites (or the public's) because of her caste, he decided it wouldn't be a bad idea to give her a chance.

Unfortunately, he couldn't say the same for many of the other girls. Orella Yoshizumi and Donna Cesar had been pleasant company, despite Halynn's warnings that they were 'madly in love with him' or something. But Kellsie Bergonzini had been another story.

Apparently, the Six had been too excited and eaten too many of the burgers in one go. But her stomach hadn't been able to handle it, and so she'd narrowly avoided throwing up over the crown prince. Horrified, Alistair had sent her back to her room to clean herself up. That wouldn't be the only place she would be sent back to.

Sonia Soergel was a definite contender for elimination too, after mentioning that she found his little sisters 'annoying'. He didn't care if she was a famous actress; if one of these girls was going to marry him, they had to be respectful of his family too, even if he agreed that his sisters could be annoying at times.

Rosalia Lage and Iris Yau had been boring to talk to, and he found himself nearly falling asleep, though it didn't help that they had been some of the very last girls he approached.

And adding to that list the rude likes of Bailey Harkess, Alistair now had many girls on his imaginary 'elimination list'. Counting inside his head, he came to the conclusion that in total, he was going to eliminate seven girls.

It was a decent number, but Alistair was too tired to do anything about it now. The many introductions had drained his energy, and he decided that he would wait until after breakfast to dismiss the girls.

Then, after that was over with… Dates could begin.

* * *

Hey guys!

Yeah, so a few girls got more spotlight moments than others in this chapter, and a few were only part of group conversations, but don't you worry. There will be individual time for every girl to shine later on in the story, and the amount of lines/time your girl got here is not an indicator of how far she will make it.

I'd love to hear what you think of the characters so far, and if you have anything you'd like to see later on in the story, or if you have any favorites you're pulling for already!

For those people that have accounts, I have a **poll** on my profile to see who you want to get the first date. You can vote for two girls, and I'd really, really love the input. I probably won't get many responses, but it would be very very helpful, and seeing as this is an SYOC I'd love to get more interaction with the readers.

Until next time!

~Rysa


	7. Goodbye

This chapter was originally going to include the first date, but starting from today, I'll be gone and won't be able to work on updates for 10 days. I moved the first date to the next chapter instead because I wasn't finished writing it, but you find out who it is in this chapter anyways ;) She was the winner of the poll by a pretty clear margin, and thank you to everyone who voted on the poll!

This chapter isn't really that exciting and is also pretty short because, like I said, there was originally a lot more of the chapter, but it's necessary. I didn't want to announce my 10-day absence with a simple Author's Note either, so I decided to post this earlier :)

EDIT: I forgot to include this when I first published this chapter, oops, but please check out the story Love, If It's Possible by Zapautumn! It's an SYOC with a ton of open spots and amazing writing, but for some reason people seem to be sleeping on it :( Zapautumn has amazing writing and I definitely recommend checking it out and considering submitting!

* * *

Alistair hadn't known how much noise thirty-five girls could make until breakfast when he'd been trying to talk to Isabelle but had been drowned by the chatter.

"Was it this noisy in your Selection?" he asked his parents. They undoubtedly knew more about the Selection than anybody else in the room.

"Oh, yeah, definitely," Breena said, laughing, "but it gets a lot quieter when the pool narrows." His mother's words reminded Alistair of the elimination that would happen at the end of breakfast.

Seven girls would be leaving the palace this morning. They were the ones who'd practically made his decision for him. He'd kept anyone he thought he might have a chance with, but for these seven girls, he knew there was no possible future with them as his wife.

Half an hour later, when everyone looked reasonably full, Alistair cleared his throat, and at once thirty-five pairs of eyes were on him. _Wow. That was a lot easier than I expected._ It was as if they'd all been waiting for him to do something. "I hope you enjoyed the breakfast, but now I have an announcement to make."

Instantly, hushed whispers broke out. He frowned but continued, "As you all know, the Selection is a competition to find my wife. I had the pleasure of meeting all of you yesterday, but through our interactions, I have figured out who I have a possible future with, and who I don't."

Everyone fell silent, much to his relief, but he could see the Selected looking at each other as if trying to gauge who he was talking about.

"Therefore, the ladies I am about to announce will be leaving the palace today. I'm sorry, but if we don't have a connection, I think it's useless for both of us to keep you around."

He took the piece of paper from out of his pocket. Adina and Holiday immediately leaned backward to try and see its contents. "Kellsie Bergonzini."

The short brunette sunk lower into her seat, looking devastated. Around her, some were whispering words of comfort, while some looked relieved that their name hadn't been called.

"Iris Yau." Two girls actually gasped out loud at that, and he could see why. Iris was a Three, and he'd guessed she was smart from the hobbies she'd filled out on their form. However, their conversation had made him realize that there was no way the two of them would ever click. Iris nodded resignedly, forcing a smile as she turned to look at the girls around her.

"Bailey Harkess." Nobody looked particularly upset at that, except for Bailey herself. Her nostrils were practically flaring out of her anger.

"Ronnica Benabou." Ronnica burst into loud sobs, and Alistair could've laughed at Phaedra's wince. He knew his cousin hated crying people more than anything.

"Sonia Soergel." Sonia sighed in defeat, as Iris — who sat next to her — patted her shoulder reassuringly.

"Theresa Kee." He couldn't see her face because she was blocked by the tall girl sitting next to her.

"Rosalia Lage." Like with Bailey, nobody else seemed distressed that Rosalia would be leaving. He even saw Halynn and Gill nod at each other, leading him to wonder if he'd missed something.

The girls all waited with bated breath for the next name, but he only smiled. "The rest of you… You're safe." There was a collective sigh of relief from the table, and he saw that even people who'd seemed confident yesterday were visibly stressed by the eliminations.

"But one more thing." He found the girl he was looking for seated between Jasmine and Emma. "Lady Lyndon, would you like to join me in the palace grounds for a horse ride before lunch?"

His entire family looked surprised, and several of the Selected shot Lyndon jealous looks. Lyndon smiled brightly. "I'd love to."

"Good," Alistair responded, smiling back. "Meet me at the stables at 11."

He sat back down, frowning as Holiday looked at him questioningly. "What?" he demanded.

She giggled, "You like her, don't you?"

Against his will, his cheeks heated up. "In case you didn't notice, Holiday, I'm kind of supposed to be dating them. I have to start with someone."

"He likes her," whispered Adina to Phaedra. Except Adina was a terrible whisperer so it was more like whisper-shouting. Phaedra nodded in response, absent-mindedly stirring her hot chocolate.

"Alistair." His father looked up from reading newspapers to address him, his forehead furrowed. "Can I speak with you in my office?"

Alistair swallowed. Those words never meant anything good, from his past experiences. He stood up, following his father up the stairs until they were inside his office. Alistair took a seat, while Cliff paced back and forth behind his desk.

"Alistair, you know that there are many lower-caste girls that survived the elimination, including an Eight," he began after a while. Alistair nodded in response, not sure where this was going. "I think it would be best for you if you eliminated them soon, ideally in the next elimination."

Whatever he'd been expecting, it was not that. For a moment, he was completely gobsmacked, unsure how to respond. An inarticulate "What?" was all he managed to get out.

Cliff held up his hands quickly, stopping him from continuing. "It's for the best. I'm trying to look out for you, and so I think those lower-caste girls should go."

"I thought holding this Selection meant I would be able to find my own wife," Alistair said sharply and carefully. His parents had already pulled him out of Hilliard, they'd already forced him to do enough things, and this time around he wasn't having it. "As in, making my own decisions instead of being told what to do by you. Many of those so-called 'lower-caste girls' are polite and kind, and I enjoyed talking to them. Maybe you just can't see that."

Cliff sighed like he'd expected this reaction. "I used to think that way too. In my Selection, there was a Five who made it to my Elite. I thought we had a connection, but…" He trailed off, shaking his head. "She was only after the money. Her family was poor, and she used the Selection to bring them out of poverty. I nearly married her, until I found out she didn't care about me. I don't want the same to happen to you."

Bristling, Alistair snapped, "I'm not stupid. I'm not going to make those mistakes."

His father looked hurt, but Alistair was fed up and couldn't care less. "I know you're not stupid," Cliff said gently. "But I just don't want to see your heart broken, and I don't trust a homeless Eight

"Mona was perfectly fine when I talked to her," Alistair responded angrily, his voice getting louder as his temper flared up.

"And what about the Sevens? I've heard the girls talking… Do you think someone called 'Bandit' came here to steal your heart or your riches? Or the lighthouse keeper, who probably wanted to make some cash instead of finding her prince charming?"

His father was making a lot of sense, and he hated it. He didn't want to believe that girls like Mona, girls like Emma and Olivia, were more interested in his money and high status than him. Even if it was the truth. "Isn't the Selection meant to be an opportunity for me to get to know all different kinds of girls? That includes the lower castes, and yes, that includes Caste Eight."

He refused to let himself agree with what his father was saying. The lower-caste girls had done nothing wrong. He couldn't let his opinions about them be affected by their castes. After all, wasn't that the entire point of making all the Selected automatically Threes?

"You don't understand—" Cliff began, but Alistair cut him off.

"No, you're the one who doesn't understand!" he half-yelled. "Dad, I know you try to do your best but you've never tried to see things from a citizen's point of view! You're doing good things for the country, but Illea isn't just made up of Twos and Threes!" He gritted his teeth. "The lower castes have more problems than you could imagine, and if you want to better Illea, you have to better the whole of Illea! And that includes the Eights."

His father cut him off suddenly. "That's enough." Cliff's jaw clenched, and the hard set of his eyes could have cut through stone. "Alistair, I'm trying to look out for you. You'd be doing yourself a favor if you eliminated the ones below Caste Six."

Alistair gave him a dirty look and stood up. "For your information, all the Selected are Threes or above now," he said hotly. "So stop interfering with my Selection, Dad. I want to be able to decide something for once."

He stormed out, not bothering to stay to listen to whatever the king was going to say next. The door made a satisfying _Bam!_ noise as he slammed it shut behind him, the ornaments on the walls of the hallway practically rattling from the impact.

As he stomped his way back to his own room, his temper slowly evaporated. He regretted the way he'd acted, knowing full well that his father really was trying to look out for him. Not to mention, his father had experience and was thinking logically, unlike Alistair.

Was Alistair making mistakes that would bite him back in the end?


	8. Cowboy Boots and Colors

Chapter Eight: Cowboy Boots and Colors

 _"Is that the most fun thing you learn around here? History?"_

* * *

He found Lyndon at the stables already, talking to a stablehand while she stroked the nose of one of the horses.

"I didn't expect you to be so early," he said as he walked in.

She turned around in surprise. "Oh, hi Alistair!" she greeted. "Do you think I'd be late to my first date with the prince?"

"Good point," Alistair remarked. His gaze traveled around the stables and he paled when he noticed which particular horse Lyndon was standing next to, but decided not to voice his concerns. "Did you get well acquainted with our horses?"

Lyndon nodded enthusiastically. "They're all so beautiful! Then again, all horses are, but I want to try riding all of the ones here." Her face fell. "Well, unless I get eliminated, of course."

Alistair laughed awkwardly, while inside, he was feeling guilty. He'd expected that some girls would be worried about how far they would make it, but hadn't expected Lyndon to bring it up at the very beginning of their date. "Let's not think about that now, and just focus on having a fun time." Lyndon seemed happy to do that as well.

Luckily for him, she chose a young stallion called Bucks instead of Gingersnap. She didn't need any help saddling Bucks and seemed to hit it off with the horse right away. Being a decent rider himself, Alistair was quick to climb onto his usual steed, a gentle gray mare called Athena. Together, they started trotting slowly towards the woods behind the palace.

"I'm guessing that's not what you usually wear when riding," Alistair remarked. She was wearing a pale pink dress that looked nice, but he doubted it would stay clean for very long. Of course, she was still wearing her cowboy boots underneath.

She laughed, "Of course not! I just wasn't sure if we had to wear dresses for everything, so I decided to play it safe. I mean, the cowboy boots were already a stretch."

Alistair frowned, wondering who had put in the rule about dresses. "Well, now you have express permission from the Crown Prince to wear something other than a dress if you'd like. And I have to say; I think it's cool that you wear cowboy boots. I don't think I've met anybody like that before."

Lyndon's gaze softened, which was drastically different from the energy she was displaying just a few moments ago. He couldn't gauge what she was thinking but hoped it was nothing negative. "Thank you so much," she said after a few moments of trotting in silence. "That means a lot to me."

He shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. He hadn't imagined that permitting Lyndon to wear riding gear would mean so much to her; after all, he'd only tried to be nice. He wasn't the saving grace that Lyndon apparently thought he was. "Hey, it's alright. And anytime you need anything else, let me know too. I want to make all of you happy."

Lyndon looked lost in thought, so he stayed quiet as well. However, after a few minutes had gone by, he couldn't stand it anymore. "Do you want to race?" he suggested, already knowing he would lose. Lyndon's horse, Bucks, was a racing horse that had won his owner a lot of money (hence the name Bucks), and still participated in races now. That was without even taking into account the fact that Lyndon was infinite times better than him with horses.

However, Lyndon quickly snapped out of whatever mood she was in before. "Yes!" Her eyes scanned the surrounding area. "The fastest one to that tree over there?"

Alistair nodded, and Lyndon grinned. "On your marks, get set, go!"

The words had just left her mouth when she sped off, and Alistair flicked Athena's reins while he tried to catch up. It was no use, however; Lyndon was pulling further and further ahead. She whooped as she sped towards the end, and despite his apparent failure, Alistair had to smile at her energy.

He arrived at the finish a few seconds after Lyndon, who looked ecstatic. "I love this horse!" she exclaimed, patting Bucks on the back. "Good job, boy. You 're incredible."

"You enjoy riding a lot, don't you?" Alistair asked, patting Athena on the back as well.

"It's my life," Lyndon said seriously. Then, she pointed the finger at him. "Rematch!"

Though he tried to get out of it, eventually they raced again, and again, and again, Lyndon and Bucks winning every single time. Eventually, they were both so tired and sweaty that they decided to head in and get ready for lunch.

When they got into the palace, however, Alistair took her hand, and she looked at him in surprise. "I enjoyed this date," he said, smiling at her as they walked down the hall. "Even if I lost and hurt my ego, I just want to let you know that I had a lot of fun with you, and uh…" Wow, he was terrible at this emotional stuff. Luckily for him, his actions seemed to speak louder than his words at that moment.

"I had fun too," Lyndon replied, looking down at their entwined fingers. Her smile slipped for a moment as if a shadow had come over her face.

"Lyndon?" Alistair asked concernedly, letting go of her hand. "I'm sorry, was that too—"

"No, it's fine, Alistair," she replied, smiling again, and he was relieved to see that it appeared to be genuine. "Thanks for choosing me to be your first date. See ya at lunch?"

"See you!" As they went their separate ways, he felt giddy with excitement, like he'd just passed a huge milestone. The first date of the Selection was over, and it had been a successful one, one that he'd enjoyed.

* * *

After lunch, Alistair had been video-calling Ricardo when Phaedra had interrupted. "Hey, Ali Baba," she said, not even bothering to knock. "Please tell me you have a date planned for this evening."

Closing his laptop, Alistair frowned. "Wow, did you run out of nickname ideas? I'm pretty sure you've called me that before."

"Shut it, Aluminum," she snapped. "And answer the question."

"Well, uhh…" The truth was, he had planned to 'chillax' for the rest of the day. Maybe check his social media, play with Adina's sugar gliders, nap.

Phaedra sighed, "If you only go on a date with one girl every day, it'll take you a month to meet all of them. Which means that unless you want to eliminate more girls who you haven't even been on a date with yet, I suggest you get cracking."

Alistair frowned, leaning back on his comfy desk chair. Phaedra had a point; he didn't want to be stuck doing dates forever. "But I have nothing planned…"

"But guess what? I do," Phaedra announced dramatically. "Just eat dinner together on the big ballroom balcony. It overlooks the gardens, and I bet I can get some people to decorate it. It'll be super romantic or something like that."

Alistair considered it for a second. The plan sounded good, if not just because he knew that dinner would be just as noisy as breakfast and lunch. Three meals a day with thirty-five girls staring at you was probably something he would be used to soon, but for now, a break sounded nice. "Can I tell the chef to make whatever I want?"

Phaedra rolled her eyes. "Obviously."

"Alright, sounds good." He was already mentally drooling at the thought of his favorite lasagna. "Can I pick anybody?" he asked.

His cousin shrugged. "Well, technically, but…"

"But what?"

And that was how he found himself listening to Phaedra's spiel about a Selected lady called Aeri Kim, who Alistair didn't remember talking to. Apparently, Aeri had been feeling unwell after the makeover, so Phaedra had forced her to stay in her room for the duration of the party. As she explained the situation, Alistair realized that he did remember seeing the form of a girl called Aeri, but had completely forgotten about her when he was meeting the other Selected.

"So you think I should ask her out tonight?" he said when Phaedra had finished.

Phaedra frowned. "I know I said I'm not going to meddle with your Selection…"

 _Then what are you doing right now?_ Alistair thought.

"…but it would be fair to her since she's the only girl that hasn't spoken with you yet."

He could only nod, already intrigued to see what the one girl he had yet to meet was going to be like. Though he'd originally wanted to ask somebody else out as soon as Phaedra had suggested the dinner idea, he would push that aside for now.

Tonight, he had a date with Lady Aeri Kim.

* * *

Alistair headed to Aeri's room half an hour before dinner was supposed to start. He knocked on the door, waiting nervously for an answer.

Several seconds passed, and nobody responded to the door. Alistair frowned. Was Aeri elsewhere in the palace, or had his knock not been heard? He knocked again but received no response.

Well, that certainly threw a wrench into his plans. He sighed, running a hand through the hair that Owen had spent ages combing through. What could he do now? Wait and hope that Aeri would show up? Or change his plans for the night?

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he looked at the door one last time before turning around and leaving. As he trudged down the hallway, he felt a twinge of disappointment, having genuinely looked forward to the date.

That feeling disappeared as soon as he saw Aeri walking down the corridor towards him, replaced by a wave of pure relief and gratitude. "Lady Aeri!" he called.

Aeri stopped dead in the middle of the corridor, her eyes wide. "Hello, Your Highness," she said, before dropping into a curtsy. "Do you need something?"

Face to face with Aeri for the first time, Alistair was momentarily distracted. "Uh… kind of?" Wow, what a suave prince you are, Alistair! "Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?" As he said the words, it dawned on him how awkward it would be to date all the Selected at once. He would probably end up having a private dinner with the other girls when he ran out of good date ideas, which meant repeating that exact line to all of them.

She beamed. "Sounds great!" she said. "When?"

"Uh… Dinner. Tonight." Alistair flushed at how stupid he sounded, but luckily he wasn't alone. Aeri's cheeks also turned pink.

"Sorry, that was a dumb question," she said, laughing nervously. "So, right now?"

Alistair nodded, and Aeri smiled. "Lovely." She looked down at herself. "I was going to change before dinner," she admitted, "but if it's just you, this is fine, right?"

His eyes trailed down to her clothes. She was wearing a velvet dress that was casual by palace standards, but it didn't matter since they weren't eating with everybody else. "Yeah, it's fine. You look beautiful."

No, why did he say that? He'd been thinking it, of course, but now he sounded like an obsessed teenage boy. Resisting the urge to bury his face in his hands, Alistair casually wiped the sweat off his forehead, pretending he was fixing his hair.

Aeri's pale skin flushed, and a second later she sneezed. "Um… Then I'll keep it on, I guess." She stuck out her arm. "Where are we eating?"

Alistair took her arm, noticing with amusement that Aeri was a lot shorter than him as they walked down the hallway. "There's a balcony that overlooks the gardens. Have you gotten to see them yet?"

She shook her head. "I missed the party, and I stayed in the Women's Room today between lessons."

"How are the lessons?" he asked. He trusted Mimi and Phaedra to do a good job, but if any of the Selected found them too hard or too fast-paced, he'd relay the message to them.

"They're alright… It's annoying to learn about etiquette for hours, but I guess it's essential information," Aeri mused. Alistair sighed; unfortunately, there was nothing he could do about that. Etiquette was the most boring thing in the whole world, but if these girls wanted to become queen, they had to learn it.

"Don't worry, once you get to history, it'll be slightly better," he said. History was more interesting than etiquette, but also not his favorite thing to learn ever.

Aeri groaned, probably having a similar train of thought. "Is that the most fun thing you learn around here? History?" she joked.

He smirked in response. "I'm afraid you just uncovered the dark truth, Lady Aeri," he jested back.

"That's it! I'm leaving," Aeri announced dramatically, although she made no move to go. In fact, she shifted slightly closer to him.

With the balcony in sight, Alistair started walking faster. He'd alerted the chefs to prepare a meal but had left it completely up to them, so he was excited to see what food they'd made. Alistair spent most of his year at Hilliard, where the food was decent, but obviously not as good as what the palace chefs could make.

Suddenly, he felt like the temperature of the hallway had dropped several degrees. Why did his thoughts keep on having to return to Hilliard? He was probably never going to go back there, as much as he wanted to. Trying to ignore the sudden damper on his mood, he looked to his side. Aeri was smiling at him, completely unaware, so he tried to tell himself that nothing was wrong.

He let go of Aeri's arm and pulled out a chair for her, looking over the balcony. The sky was darkening, so all the lights in the garden were on. The entire balcony was bathed in a soft rosy light, and the candles on the table emitted radiance. Aeri looked impressed, nodding as she glanced at the candles.

"We probably could've caught the sunset if we'd come out a few hours earlier," he admitted. "But the night view of the gardens is also pretty great."

Aeri grinned. "That's alright. We can always watch it together on another date." Alistair, who had just sat down, nearly choked out of pure surprise but disguised it as a cough.

"Do you need some water?" Aeri asked, a little too innocently. At the same time, a maid came and set down two glasses, filling them both with water.

"Thank you," Alistair said to the maid, taking his glass and gulping it down greedily. He hoped it would get rid of the red that was probably clearly visible on his cheeks, even in the low light.

There was an uncomfortable silence between them as a servant came forward, setting down their appetizers.

"Ooh, salad!" Aeri said, sounding so enthusiastic that Alistair nearly laughed out loud. "Very healthy." Seeing his expression fall, she added, "Don't you like salad?"

Alistair grimaced. "…Only if there's a shit ton of dressing?"

Aeri tossed him the bottle of dressing and started eating the salad, and after a moment of hesitation, Alistair did the same.

Once they were finished, the servant came back to take their empty plates and present them with their main course, chicken fettuccine alfredo. Alistair nearly started drooling at the sight of the creamy, cheesy pasta and wasted no time in tucking in. However, he looked up mid-mouthful and saw Aeri examining the pasta apprehensively.

"It's delicious," he reassured, but Aeri didn't seem swayed. "Did the salad take up all your appetite?"

He meant it as a joke, but when she looked even more torn than before, he nearly bit his tongue. _Stupid, stupid, stupid._ "Are you allergic or something?"

Aeri shook her head before eating a large mouthful of the pasta as if to prove she was all right. But by the time Alistair finished his plate, she had only picked at hers, and a significant portion of it remained untouched.

Wow, did none of his Selected like eating or something? Maybe he'd ended up with the wrong batch. How could he be compatible with someone who couldn't finish a good chicken fettuccine alfredo? Or maybe it was just a girl thing that he'd never noticed before. He made a mental reminder to check whether any of his sisters ever finished anything during breakfast.

It just struck him weird that Aeri, who'd eaten the salad with such gusto, had suddenly lost her appetite when it came to the main course. However, she was apparently still human, because when the dessert — chocolate cake that made Alistair want to cry at its utter perfection — came, she couldn't resist either.

The cake disappeared within the minute. "That was the best thing I've ever had," Aeri said, and he agreed. However, she looked almost guilty for eating the cake, and he couldn't fathom why.

"So what do you do back home, Aeri?" he asked, hoping to lift her spirits.

"I'm a nail polish namer."

"Wait," he said, having never heard of this occupation before. "So, you just… name nail polish?"

"That's pretty much it," she replied, laughing.

Alistair leaned back in his chair, absorbing the surreal fact that being a nail polish namer was an actual job. "Seriously? I always thought it was just the company that did that at the last second. I didn't think it was a separate job…"

Aeri gasped. "Are you saying my job isn't important?" The twinkle in her doe-like brown eyes suggested that she wasn't offended.

"Wait, so how does it even work? Do you just get shown a color and come up with a name for it?"

Aeri giggled. "It's not rocket science, you know. I work for Navilla; you probably don't know them, but they're one of the biggest nail polish companies."

"I have three sisters," he reminded. "I know way more than I wish I did."

"Siblings are a real pain, aren't they?" Aeri mused. "When Navilla has a new collection coming out, they show the colors to the naming team. That includes me, five others, and our boss. Then we just throw as many name ideas as we can and eventually decide on one."

It sounded strangely appealing to Alistair, leading him to question his masculinity for a moment. "I'm embarrassed to admit this, but that sounds like so much fun. I can only imagine how many bad jokes and puns are involved."

"Hey, let's play a game," she suggested. "Pick something on this table, imagine it as a nail polish and see who comes up with a better name."

It was probably the most unfair thing they could do, given the fact that Alistair had never named nail polish in his life, but it also sounded weirdly fun. "What about this tablecloth?" It was dark red, and he was pretty sure he'd seen Adina wear a similar shade on her nails during Christmas.

Aeri nodded, her playful expression melting into one of concentration as she stared at the tablecloth. Alistair had never seen someone so focused on trying to name a color. However, he stopped looking at her when he realized he had to figure out a name too.

Five minutes later, when he'd nearly given up, Aeri announced that it was time to reveal their names. "You first," she insisted.

He groaned but obliged. "Don't laugh at me, alright?" he warned. "I honestly couldn't think of anything."

"Just tell me already!" she said, clapping her hands together in excitement.

"Don't Flame it on Me," he muttered in embarrassment. He would not be considering a career in nail polish naming after this.

Aeri looked at him for a few moments before bursting into laughter. "Oh, I get it now! Flame instead of Blame, right? Because it's red?" She was laughing so hard that Alistair joined in at his own expense.

"What's yours, then?"

She cleared her throat dramatically. "Cherry Wine, So Fine," she announced, standing up and curtsying. Playing along, Alistair clapped his hands. He should've noticed that the tablecloth was the same color as cherry wine. "At Navilla, we love naming nail polish after food. If you look at any nail polish of ours, it's 70% likely to be a food joke."

"I'll go raid Isabelle's collection sometime," he promised with a grin. "You should give me some tips on this. I need a lot of practice."

Aeri was about to reply when she yawned loudly, and Alistair chuckled. "We should probably save that for another time," he suggested. "I think we both need some sleep if we want to wake up in time for breakfast tomorrow."

She nodded her agreement. "Since you're the Crown Prince, can you make breakfast later or something? I need my sleep," she complained.

"If I had that power, I would've done that years ago, trust me," Alistair said, feeling proud as she giggled. At least he could be funny, even if he was hopeless at naming nail polish.

The walk back to the Selected corridor seemed way too fast, and before he knew it, Alistair was ending their conversation and dropping Aeri off at the door. "Good night, Lady Aeri."

"Good night, Your Highness."


	9. Hit or Miss

Chapter Nine: Hit or Miss

 _"...before anyone could intervene, there was a knock on the door."_

* * *

The first time Princess Holiday Evette Raynott had entered the Woman's Room, all eyes had snapped to her. After all, she was the princess, right after her brother in the line of succession. But meeting 35 girls from all across Illea that were her age was a dream for her.

While Alistair had gone off to Hilliard, Holiday never had the same opportunity. She didn't mind, but the fact remained that she'd never befriended anyone "normal." All her friends were the daughters of famous or influential people. She was still only second-in-line, but because she carried the last name Raynott, Holiday had never been a regular teenager.

The Selected had been shy around her at first, but some had opened her with welcome arms. Within a few days, she'd become friends with approximately half the room, though she knew some better than others. Her brother had an interesting bunch.

Currently, she sat between Layla Steffens and Cassiopeia Gonzales. Cassiopeia was braiding her hair, at her request, while they listened to the chatter.

"He's already gone through… How many girls? Lyndon, Aeri, Olivia, Estelle… Four, right?" Reese said, counting off the names on her perfectly manicured fingers. "That's pretty impressive."

"Well, you can't expect him to take five years to date us," Raisa said, looking up from her seat next to the window.

Violet laughed. "Can you imagine how terrible that would be though?" Her gaze landed on Olivia, who was whispering to Emma in the corner. "Olivia, can you tell us what happened in your date again?"

The girl in question blushed, and Holiday could tell that she didn't want to share the personal information, but she was curious too. She'd missed the first time Olivia had explained the date. Though it was weird to hear all these girls talking about her brother in that way, she didn't want to stay in the dark about everything that went on.

She wanted to find out which girls would be a good fit with her brother — and which wouldn't.

"It was nice," Olivia mumbled. "We took a walk around the gardens. We talked a bit."

"What do you all think Alistair and Gill are up to right now?" Reese looked curious, and Holiday recalled seeing her and Gillian hanging out the previous day.

Gillian had left the Woman's Room two hours ago, saying that she had a date, and within that time the girls had already brought it up five times. Holiday didn't mind; listening to gossip was better than sitting around in silence, and it wasn't like they were saying anything harmful.

Calypso Winterton, who Holiday hadn't heard a single word from so far, rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Reese, why does it even matter to you?"

Reese frowned, and Holiday winced. "Excuse me?"

"It's their business, not yours," Calypso said. "Or are you jealous that it's Gillian on that date, and not you?"

It was evident to everybody in the room, including Holiday, that Reese was furious at Calypso, but before anyone could intervene, there was a knock on the door. The effect was magical; everybody around her instantly sat up straighter as the door swung open.

Holiday was the only one who was completely unaffected as her brother strode in. But then again, she wasn't trying to date him. "'Sup?"

"Hey, Holly," Alistair said. "Hello, ladies."

A chorus of hellos went around the room, and Holiday stopped herself from giggling out loud at how unnatural everybody was acting. Was this what it felt like when trying to impress a guy? In that case, Holiday wanted to avoid relationships for a long, long time.

"Could I borrow Hilda for the rest of the afternoon?" Alistair asked. Holiday glanced across the room to see the athletic blonde looking surprised.

"Of course," she said, getting up from the couch she was sharing with Victoria. She'd been quite talkative during the afternoon, but now it seemed like she wasn't sure what to say.

Alistair took her arm, before smiling at the rest of the girls. "Enjoy the rest of the day."

As soon as the door closed, the room erupted. Having witnessed three of these 'explosions' already, Holiday had accepted that it was the norm and was utterly unfazed as Cassie tied off the end of her fishtail braid.

She'd learned a lot about the girls from hanging out in the Woman's Room, and had undoubtedly formed her own opinions on them. When the time came, she would make sure that her brother chose the right girl to make him happy and rule by his side.

After all, it was what he deserved.

* * *

Alistair had decided to take Hilda to a volleyball game. It was one of the dates that sprung to his mind immediately, given her profession as a part-time volleyball coach, so he didn't have to think too hard about it.

As soon as they arrived at the volleyball stadium, he knew he'd made the right choice. One look at the place and Hilda's face was alight.

"Big volleyball fan?" he joked.

Hilda nodded excitedly, gesturing at the green and yellow banners on one side of the audience. "The Midston Menaces are playing! They're…" her voice faltered for a moment, "…my hometown team."

"Well, that's an awesome coincidence!" Alistair grabbed her hand. "Let's go find our seats."

They took their spots in the third row, blending into the crowd because of the beanies and sunglasses they were wearing. Alistair personally thought that they looked ridiculous, but as long as nobody recognized them, it was fine.

Hilda was in high spirits for the whole game, especially when the Midston Menaces won after the fourth set. As the stadium erupted into cheers, she shot to her feet and pulled Alistair up with her. "I need to go congratulate them!" she exclaimed. Alistair was about to ask if that was allowed but didn't have the time as she sprinted off.

When he caught up with her, she was just approaching the members of the Midston Menaces. They looked surprised to see her, but he noticed that they seemed familiar with eachother. Like friends, even. Had they played together before?

Alistair stood there awkwardly, not wanting to disturb the moment. Hilda talked to the girls for what felt like forever, and he let out a sigh of relief as Hilda hugged every one of them one last time before returning to him. "Sorry if that took a while," she said. "It was nice to catch up."

"No worries," Alistair replied while leaving the stadium. "You seemed very close to them."

Hilda stopped in her tracks, her face turning red. "Oh… Yeah, since we're from the same place, we've trained together a few times. They're some of my best friends."

As they drove back to the palace, Alistair thought about what all of the girls must have given up to be at the palace. For some, it was their professions and hobbies. For some, it was their friends and family. For some, like Hilda, it was both.

But he'd given up a lot too when he'd left Hilliard. The life of a royal was about compromise, and he knew that whoever he picked to be his queen would have to understand that too.

"Hilda, can I ask you a question?" he asked suddenly.

"Well, you just did," she joked. "But sure."

He thought about his wording carefully. "You love volleyball, right?"

"More than anything else."

"Would you be willing to give it up if you became queen?"

Hilda's mouth dropped open, and Alistair waited patiently. When it became clear that she was thinking about it seriously, he sighed. "You don't have to give me an answer right away. But it's something that you have to consider."

Hilda frowned. "Can you give me a few more weeks to think about that?" she asked. "I… haven't seen enough of palace life yet. I don't think I'd be able to decide."

"That's alright," Alistair said, mentally berating himself. The atmosphere in the car instantly turned awkward. He would not be asking that question to any of the Selected ever again, especially not on the first date.

The rest of the car ride was deafeningly silent.

* * *

yknow what else is deafeningly silent? ME

I'm sorry I haven't updated in a really long time :( school (and my shitty time management skills) have gotten in the way, but now that christmas break is coming up, I'll try to upload as much as I can :)

Also, it's been slightly more than a year since this story started and I only have 9 chapters omg, what are you doing Rysa?

hopefully I'll get this story finished before its two year anniversary? XD

But yeah, please review! I love hearing what you all have to say, and it really motivates me to write faster.

Until next time!

~Rysa


	10. Spotlight

so I recently heard of this cool new thing called actually updating and I've decided to give it a try seeing as I have slightly more time during the holidays

enjoy! :)

* * *

 **Chapter Ten: Spotlight**

 _"Shh, don't expose our crown prince, we still need him to rule the country."_

* * *

Reese twirled in front of her floor-length mirror, admiring the way the light shimmered on her dark green dress. "This is gorgeous," she breathed out, turning this-way and that-way in order to fully view the dress's beauty. Tonight was the first Report, the first time Illea would be getting to know the Selected, so she had to make sure everything was perfect.

Nobody would ever hear her say it out loud, but the undeniable truth was that she was nervous. There were no butterflies; it was more like a parade of elephants, stomping around in her stomach and giving her the jitters. But she shouldn't have been so nervous. She was far more used to the spotlight than most of the Selected, and she could only imagine how badly some of her new 'friends' would mess up.

As she sat down, allowing one of her maids to brush out her golden locks, she stared at herself in the mirror. She couldn't help but notice the tired bags under her own eyes, barely visible beneath the concealer. She tried to smile, but it was obvious to her that it wasn't real, though she supposed to an outsider everything would appear perfect.

A few months ago, her life was about as picturesque as it could get. But this would be her first real media appearance since the Carvers' fall from grace. This was her chance to get everything back… or lose it all again.

Reese locked eyes with the mirror again and this time she appeared somewhat happier. It was far from perfect, but it would have to do.

"There. You're all set, Lady Reese." Her head maid stepped back, as if admiring her own work. Reese often thought about how lucky her maids were to have somebody naturally photogenic to work with. She was grateful for them too. Thanks to their handiwork, she shone compared to the rest of the Selected.

"Thank you, hon'." Reese stood up, inspecting herself in the mirror one last time. She looked beautiful, she really did. Illea — and Prince Alistair — wouldn't know what had hit them.

Reese left the room, waving to Halynn as she passed her. "You ready?" she asked her friend.

Halynn grinned. "This can't be worse than my oral exams. Give a fake answer that people will like. No problem."

"I don't think that's how oral exams are supposed to work," Reese joked back. "Is Hell-iard failing that badly?"

"Wow, you actually know what an oral exam is? I'm so impressed. Never would've expected that from Croy-dumb."

This was how a typical conversation went for Reese and Halynn. Although Reese hated talking about her history at Croyden Prep, her old school, Halynn had never pried for any information, and the two found it fun to argue about the rival schools. They had bonded quickly and Reese knew it was a good idea to get on Halynn's good side.

It was no secret to the Selected that Halynn and Alistair were close. Many times when Halynn or her friends had been missing, Reese had heard the discussions in the Women's Room (and maybe joined in, too). Brownie points with Halynn meant brownie points with Alistair, and Reese needed those if she was going to make it far in this competition. She was just grateful that he didn't seem to remember what had happened to him years ago, otherwise she would be screwed.

Apparently, Reese wasn't as early as she'd hoped. When she and Halynn arrived there were only four spots left, none of which were next to each other. Without hesitating, Reese headed straight towards the only available seat in the front row, in between Victoria and Aeri.

The Report set was much more chaotic than she'd been expecting. Alistair was talking to the king and queen in hushed tones at the side, and kept on looking at a chair at the side of the stage, which she guessed had been prepared for him. Aaden Althuis, the Report host, was pacing back and forth next to two sofas in the middle of the stage. From where she was sitting, at the opposite side, she couldn't even see all the cameras, but she knew there were at least 10 that were ready to film their every movement.

In the five minutes that remained before their airtime, the last two Selected — Raisa and Mona — came in, and everybody took their positions on the stage. Reese felt a thrill as she realized that she was about to appear on the Illea Capital Report. She'd been on television before, obviously, but the Report was another level.

The countdown started, and she put on her most charming smile as Aaden began talking to the camera.

"Welcome to this week's Illea Capital Report!" Reese took a deep breath. She could do this. She could win the hearts of all of Illea, no problem. "Today is very special, as we have the Selected here for the very first time! We will be hearing from all of them individually today. They will be speaking in a completely random order, and you will have the chance to listen to them and figure out who our next queen of Illea may be."

Aaden picked up an upturned fedora from the ground, walked over to Alistair, and held it out to him. "Your Highness, please take this hat and pull a name from it."

As Alistair reached into the hat, Reese silently prayed that it was her, so she could make the strongest impression on the audience. But she could only be disappointed, then jealous, as Alistair read out the name. "Halynn Aster."

Of course. Halynn just had to be the luckiest person in the world, didn't she?

Reese's eyes were trained on Halynn as she smoothly stepped forward, settling into the chair comfortably. "So, Lady Halynn, how do you feel about our dear prince? We've all heard the rumors about you two at Hilliard."

"Alistair is definitely one of my best friends," Halynn said confidently. Reese didn't miss that she'd left out his title — on purpose, probably. "He's an amazing person and I'm honored to have met him at Hilliard."

"Best friends, huh?" Aaden wiggled his eyebrows un-subtly, and Reese nearly rolled her eyes at how over-the-top it was before remembering she was on live television. "Are you sure it wasn't anything more?"

"I'm sure there was nothing more on my side, but I can't say the same for him. I bet Alistair was feeling like a lost puppy without me. He can't survive a day without me, you know? So in order to save him from the pain, I entered," Halynn joked, her tone light. The live audience laughed, and Reese gritted her teeth.

"Shh, don't expose our crown prince, we still need him to rule the country," Aaden jested, and the audience laughed even harder. The rest of Halynn's interview went just as well, and at the end, the audience was practically in tears, and many of the Selected were giggling as well. Reese could feel those elephants from earlier coming back to her stomach. She desperately hoped it wasn't her turn after Halynn.

It turned out she wasn't — in fact, she didn't get to speak until 10 girls later. During that time, nobody had made an impression as strong as Halynn, but there were definitely standouts.

Lyndon Aubry had talked happily about the date she shared with Alistair, and along with the fact that she'd been the first date, her whole country vibe was kind of charming.

Jasmine Halcyon's interview had gone a similar path to Halynn's, and the crowd was enraptured by her exciting and funny stories about her travels.

Sweet and kind Cassiopeia Gonzales melted hearts during her spotlight time with her optimistic attitude, but Reese knew she didn't need to worry about her because she was a former Seven, and that would drag down her popularity.

Soonja Choi was the perfect example of a proper queen, and her interview was as smooth as the velvet that Reese's dress was made out of. The words flowed out of her mouth so easily as she regretfully noted that she hadn't had a date yet. Reese was sure that many people would favor her, since she seemed completely ready to take the throne.

There were also some people that stood out in a bad way. Olivia West stammered multiple times while trying to explain her date, and while Mona was honestly quite funny, the audience barely seemed to have a reaction to her, not to mention that she'd had a hard time finding the chair. Bandit's interview had mostly consisted of her getting grilled by Aaden, and so all her time had been spent on explaining how she was apparently the long-lost daughter of a sea captain, and she'd only gotten a word in about her date with Alistair.

As Reese walked up to the sofa, she passed Calypso, who had unfortunately done quite well in her interview. Reese was not a fan of Calypso at all, who had been rude to her several times for no apparent reason, and she knew she wasn't the only one. She still couldn't understand how Calypso had gotten a date already and she hadn't.

"Lady Reese," Aaden greeted. "You look stunning tonight."

"Thank you," Reese said, smiling directly at the audience.

"Now, you're one of the ladies in the Selection who was quite well-known before. I'm sure many people have heard of your family." Reese instantly felt herself panic, but forced her face to stay neutral, though inside she was freezing up. _Anything but that. Please. Anything but that._

"Ah, yes. That's right, sweetie," she said nonchalantly, trying desperately to send mental messages to Aaden to tell him to avoid that topic. She wanted to distance herself far, far away from it.

"The scandal with your father's company was in the news for weeks," Aaden remarked. "It must've been very hard times for you and your family. How did it feel? How did you cope with it?"

In that moment, Reese decided that she hated Aaden. Why was he putting her in such an uncomfortable position? Why did none of the other girls get these kinds of questions? "Times were hard," she admitted, letting a little bit of her sadness show through in order to make her speech more convincing. "A lot of things changed and those changes affected us drastically. But I did my best to stay strong, for myself and for my family." Her wistful smile became replaced by a strong, determined expression. "I entered the Selection so I could make things better and allow people to see who I am, past the scandal and rumors. I'm a girl who doesn't easily get pushed down, and I'll always pick myself up again."

She was spouting pure bullshit at that point, so she was taken aback when the audience cheered loudly. Aaden nodded. "Understood. So on a much lighter note, tell us, Lady Reese, have you been on a date with the prince yet?"

"No, I haven't," Reese admitted, sneaking a glance over at Alistair — she was pleased to see that he was almost ashamed. "But I have confidence that problem will be solved soon." She smiled sweetly at him, almost taking pride in the way his face flushed, before turning back to Aaden. _You better ask me out soon, Alistair Raynott._

After the hard questions, she answered the easy ones that Aaden tossed her way so charmingly that she hoped everybody would forget about her answer to the first question.

"Let's hear another round of applause for Lady Reese!" Aaden announced, and the applause and cheers were almost deafening. Had they been this loud for the other girls, or had she really managed to make an impression? Whatever it was, Reese couldn't stop her genuine smile this time as she took her seat again.

The ones who stood out the most in the rest of the interviews were undoubtedly Raisa and Myra. Raisa had a mysterious and intriguing aura, answering Aaden's questions naturally but not revealing too much about herself. Myra spoke passionately, taking Reese by complete surprise (Myra didn't seem like a very talkative person at all), and also had a small, heart-warming message for her fans.

During the Report she also got to hear about some of the dates from girls who had been less willing to share in the Women's Room. By the end of it, Reese was starting to get sick of hearing what a marvelous time they had with Alistair. What did Lyndon, Aeri, Olivia, Estelle, Hilda, Bandit, Sage and Calypso have that she didn't?

Eventually, Aaden wrapped up the Report and disappeared to the side of the stage to find somebody. "Come on, Reese," Sage called. "Let's go. We don't want to be late for dinner."

"You go without me, babe," Reese said, walking the opposite direction. "I have to do something really quickly."

Where was that stupid Report host? Gritting her teeth, she walked past several people packing away equipment until she finally caught sight of Aaden. "Can I talk to you for a moment?" she asked.

Aaden grinned, clearly not sensing the tension. "Yeah. What is it?"

Reese looked around her, noticing that she'd attracted the attention of basically everybody still on set. "Not here. Alone."

Aaden's smile slipped away, replaced by confusion. "Um, sure?" He led her to a room at the side, which she assumed was his office, because there was a desk filled with papers and numerous pictures of the Report hung up on the wall.

She decided to get straight to the point. "You had no right to ask questions about my family," she said hotly, crossing her arms.

"Uh, why not?" Aaden retorted, looking taken back but offended. "It's my job to make the show more interesting, and everybody who heard about you would've wanted to know the answer to that."

"You were setting me up for failure!" Reese exclaimed.

"It's not even personal," Aaden said impatiently, rolling his eyes. "Plus, you couldn't have handled that better, and it definitely worked out in your favor. Why are you even mad about it?"

"Because I need to make sure that it doesn't happen ever again," Reese warned him. "My reputation is on the line, you know. So please, don't ever ask me questions like that ever again."

Aaden's eyes narrowed, and she got the feeling that she'd truly pissed him off, but he deserved it! "And why should I listen to you, Princess?"

She hated the amount of sarcasm contained in that nickname. Who did he think he was? "That's Lady Reese to you, Mr. Althuis. Just don't do that again."

"Not like I'll have the chance to, since you'll probably be gone tomorrow with that attitude," Aaden snapped.

"Attitude?" Reese spun around, glaring straight at him. "Attitude?! I'm only asking you to change your behavior because what you did on the show was unacceptable!"

Aaden scowled. "What's your definition of 'asking'? This seems more like 'yelling' to me."

"You know what? I'm not going to waste half of my dinnertime on worthless people like you," Reese decided, inspecting her nails and giving Aaden a sweet smile. "I hope you never try to mess with me ever again. Goodbye." She flounced out of the doorway, waves of rage rolling off her.

"Mess with you? How was I even messing with you?" Aaden called after her.

Reese ignored him, though she was furious on the inside. She walked away, wanting to get as far away from the Report set as possible.

* * *

It had only been a week, and Alistair was already sick of the Selection. He'd dated girls like crazy in the past few days, but still had 20 left, and all his energy was gone.

The process was quickly becoming tedious to him. Sure, all the girls were unique and special, but he was getting tired of constantly going on dates. At this point, he didn't even know who to ask out and had virtually no ideas about what to do with them.

He grabbed the latest copy of the Angeles Times off his shelf and flipped through the pages. Unsurprisingly, over half of the articles were dedicated towards his Selection, but he would save those for another time.

Finally, he found it. On the second-last page, there was a list of the girls with the most public votes after last night's Report.

Those girls would be the ones he tried to date in the upcoming weeks, in order to make the public happier and end his own indecisiveness.

The top ten started off with Sage, Aeri, and Lyndon, three girls who he had dated already and quite liked, so it was no use to him, although he was curious to see what the rest of Illea thought about them.

But he was relieved to find that the rest of the girls on the list were ones that he hadn't dated. Jasmine had placed seventh, and only slightly ahead of her were Soonja and Victoria at sixth and fifth respectively.

For all her fame, he was surprised to find that Myra was only fourth place, but then remembered that his Selected were no ordinary people, and many of them had connections already, such as Reese, who was at third place, and Raisa, who only lost to first by the smallest margin. After all, being an Olympic medalist, a famous socialite, or the daughter of a Governor had its perks.

When he was who first place was, he couldn't help but burst into laughter, causing Owen to glance over at him concernedly. "Everything all right?" he asked.

Alistair nodded, trying to fight his snorts. "Yep," he replied, unable to believe his eyes.

 _"Halynn Aster is almost everyone's favorite daughter of Illea. Not only is she extremely close with our crown prince, she's also proven herself to be witty and charming. We suspect that there may have been something between them at Hilliard, so we believe she has a strong chance of becoming our next queen!"_

Did Halynn have a twin sister that he wasn't aware of? This paragraph was pure gold; he was going to go make fun of Halynn later for this. How ironic, really, that she'd signed up to save him from his crazy girlfriends but was now the public's favorite.

But he still hadn't gone on a date with her yet, and it would be nice to have some proper time together, just the two of them, without any of the other girls around.

That wasn't the only thing he was looking forward to. His birthday was coming up soon — in fact, there were less than two weeks until he would be celebrating with a gigantic ball. Mimi had promised him that preparations were running smoothly, and he couldn't wait to party.

For now, though, he had other things to worry about. After all, those human development reports weren't going to read themselves — although if they could, life would be a whole lot easier.

* * *

SOOO I'll try to update a few times during these few days, but just in case I disappear again, happy holidays everybody! Hope y'all are having a lovely winter, and enjoying whatever holiday you celebrate :)

Don't forget to review and let me know how you feel about this chapter ;)

Have a great day, and until next time (hopefully soon)!

~Rysa


	11. Making Memories

your girl is back with another update (somehow)

* * *

 **Chapter Eleven: Making Memories**

 _"The most I get for my birthday is a box of donuts, and the princess gets a jacuzzi."_

* * *

The Selected hallway was so quiet that Alistair felt like the slightest noise would wake everybody from their sleep. He knocked on the door to Room 217 with the back of his hand, careful not to spill the coffee he was holding.

"What the hell? What kind of dumbass comes—" A short redheaded maid flung open the door, cursing loudly, until she caught sight of him. Her face flushed as scarlet as her hair as she dropped into a deep curtsey.

"My deepest apologies, Your Highness, I didn't expect you'd—"

"It's fine, don't worry about it," he reassured her. "Is Lady Layla awake?"

The maid eyed him for a moment. "Uh…" She turned around and peered over her shoulder. "Lady Layla is currently asleep. Like any normal person at half past five in the morning…"

"Oh." Alistair frowned. "I asked her yesterday if she could be ready by five thirty," he continued, "but if she's tired, then I can come back tomorrow."

This seemed to spring the maid into action. "No, no, hold on, just a minute!" she cried, spinning around and shutting the door in his face. Alistair blinked, but was saved from the confusion when he heard shouting from inside the room. He waited patiently for a while, sipping from his coffee cup and observing the wallpaper.

The door swung open, revealing the lady inside. "Sorry about the wait," Layla said, pulling a black beanie over her dark curls. "I'm not really a morning person."

"It's fine," Alistair lied, forcing himself to smile. He'd gone to the effort of waking up early for this date, but Layla clearly hadn't, and it saddened him that she didn't seem to appreciate what he was doing. "That's why I brought this anyway. Coffee?" He held out the cup in his other hand to her.

Layla's eyes lit up. "Ooh, yes please." She took the cup eagerly and inhaled, closing her eyes. "As much as I appreciate the coffee, I'm pretty sure that's not the reason you told me to wake up at the crack of dawn and dress casually."

"What a genius," Alistair said dryly. "But you're right. We're going to go for a walk in the gardens." He held out his free arm to her.

She opened her eyes and raised an eyebrow, but looped her free arm through his. "Uh, that sounds nice, but you do know the sun hasn't risen and it's darker than my soul outside?"

"Trust me, the gardens are beautiful right now."

"Whatever you say," she conceded, though she still sounded doubtful.

As they stepped outside, Alistair glanced sideways at Layla to see her reaction, and was immensely pleased with himself when her jaw dropped.

"I think I'm in aesthetic heaven," she gasped, her brown eyes shining with excitement — or maybe that was the reflection of the lights that covered every inch of the garden, from the uplights on the ground beside the flowers to the fairy lights that were strung on the tree branches. She squatted down next to one of the flower patches, pulling something out of her pocket.

"What are you doing?" Alistair asked cautiously. The palace gardener would probably flip out at him if anything happened to his hard work.

"Taking photos," she responded, holding her phone up. He could practically hear the _"duh"_ that was implied and smiled.

"You like photography?" He awkwardly patted the ground to make sure it wasn't dirty before sitting down next to her.

"Kind of," Layla replied, her eyes never leaving the flowers as she pressed the shutter several times. "I'm not obsessed or anything, but—"

Layla suddenly screamed, jumping up and backing away from the flower. Alistair frowned. "What is it?"

"There's a ladybug," she screeched. "Get it away!"

He couldn't help himself; he burst out laughing. Never in a million years would he have suspected that Layla Steffens was terrified of a tiny ladybug. "It's just a ladybug, but alright." He flicked the ladybug off the leaf gently. "There. You're safe now."

"My hero," Layla grumbled, looking like she wanted to forget that whole scenario had just happened — but of course, he was never going to let her live it down. " _Anyways_ , as I was saying, I think photography is a fun way to save memories. Besides, it's impossible to resist a beautiful photo opportunity, and the palace has tons of amazing things."

"Yeah," Alistair agreed. "I think I've never really appreciated how lucky I am to live in a place like this."

Layla let out a sigh, flopping down onto the ground next to him. "I just wish there was a pool here. Then, everything would be perfect."

He frowned. "Wait, you haven't seen the pool yet?"

She sat up immediately, her eyes wide. "There's actually a pool?"

He shrugged. "Well, it's closed right now, since it's technically winter."

"'Winter.'" Layla scoffed. "Please, I'm from St. George. Angeles is gonna have to try harder than this."

Alistair snorted, wholeheartedly agreeing. "I'll let you in on a secret, though. We have an indoor hot tub."

She grinned. "Now that's more like it! What's the royal lifestyle without a jacuzzi?"

"Well, it was only built a couple of years ago, for Holiday's 14th birthday," he said.

"That's not even fair," Layla complained. "The most I get for my birthday is a box of donuts, and the princess gets a jacuzzi." She shook her head in disbelief, and Alistair found himself laughing again.

"To be fair, I think my parents just wanted a jacuzzi, so it was a win-win situation." He tucked his legs closer to himself. "Aside from photography and swimming, what else do you like, Lady Layla?"

Tilting her head to one side, she stared off into space, thinking carefully about her answer. Alistair observed the way her face was illuminated by the garden lights, making her almost glow. "I love drawing," she began, breaking into a small smile, "and comics. I'd like to be a comic book artist one day, if I get the chance. I love skateboarding too. Also, I'm part of the cheer team."

Wow. An aspiring comic book artist, a skateboarder and a cheerleader? He had never met anyone like her, who was such a unique blend of different interests and passions. "That's really cool," he said, genuinely in awe.

"What about you?" Layla asked.

He stared at her, wondering if he'd heard wrong. "What about me?"

She rolled her eyes. "What are your hobbies?" Again, he could hear the unspoken _"duh"_.

It was a casual question, but as he opened his mouth, Alistair found that he was at a loss of words with no idea how to answer. What _were_ his hobbies? What _did_ he enjoy doing?

He liked a bunch of things… running, reading, playing guitar… but none of them seemed important enough to the point where he'd consider them his passion.

He'd known all his life that he would eventually become king, so maybe that was why he'd never allowed himself to consider anything else. And now that he really reflected on the past few years of his life, he realized that he'd never had any clear motivation. While his friends were set on becoming a professional soccer player, or were sure that they wanted to major in gender studies… Alistair had never really found out who he was, because it was already decided for him.

"Sorry, was that too personal?" Layla asked softly, snapping him out of his trance.

He was about to reply when he saw a line of light appear from above the trees, and all thoughts of his hobbies completely left his mind. He jumped up, grabbing Layla's hand and pulling her up suddenly. "The sun's rising," he told her excitedly.

"Yeah, I can tell, Alistair," she deadpanned.

"Shut up and watch."

Surprisingly, Layla actually stopped talking, and nothing could be heard but birds chirping as they watched the sky together. Gradually, the sun filled the sky with a soft light, turning the clouds orange.

Layla pulled her phone out of her pocket again, taking photos quickly before the scene could change. "Wait, stop," Alistair blurted out suddenly. She turned around, giving him a confused look. Truthfully, he wasn't sure what he was doing either as he held out his hand. "Give the phone to me. I'll take a picture of you."

After a moment of hesitation, she handed him the phone, and he held it up to get a better angle. It was impossible to see Layla's face, with the light behind her, but her silhouette was just as beautiful and gave the photo an entirely different feeling. He snapped a few shots before returning her phone. "Just warning you, I'm not a professional photographer."

Layla looked at the photos he'd taken and grinned. "Really? Because these are perfect."

Alistair felt the heat rise to his cheeks and quickly tried to change the subject, nonchalantly taking a sip of his coffee. "Since you're a cheerleader, can you do all those cool tricks and stunts?"

Layla nodded, then suddenly seemed to light up. "Oh! I can teach you something, if you want."

He winced at the thought of doing anything that involved flexibility. "As much as I appreciate the offer, I'll pass. I really don't think backflips are my thing."

"No, not a backflip," Layla said seriously. "I'll teach you how to do the most basic thing ever, how about that?"

He eyed her suspiciously. "And what is 'the most basic thing ever?'"

She grinned, spreading her arms dramatically. "A cartwheel!"

"You have _got_ to be kidding me."

It turned out, Layla was not kidding him. That was how he found himself listening to Layla explain how to start a cartwheel in extreme detail.

"It's really easy, actually. Once you've placed your dominant hand on the ground, you kick up with your opposite leg and switch to the side. Then you place your other hand down, bring your other leg up as your first leg falls down, and then use the momentum to place your second foot down and lift up your second hand! Give it a try."

His first attempt —and second, and third, and fourth — ended up with him sprawling on the ground and swearing loudly, while Layla told him what he'd done wrong. Apparently, he was falling forward too slowly, or he hadn't twisted his body enough, or he'd used the wrong leg, or a plethora of other reasons he couldn't do a cartwheel.

"You need to balance better," she told him as he picked himself up from the grass for the fiftieth time, dusting specks of dirt off his shirt. "Let me try spotting you."

This time, when he lifted his leg off the ground, he felt her hand grab his ankle and lift him up more, making it easier for him to get his other leg up. However, once he was in the air, he felt himself lose his balance and knew he was going to crash down. He winced, bracing for the impact, when Layla grabbed his waist and righted him. But the sudden touch surprised him, and he tumbled onto the ground, barely avoiding kicking Layla in the face.

"Well… the first part was a little bit better," Layla said. "But you still have a really long way to go."

Alistair nodded, wincing as he looked down at his dirt-covered hands. "I think I'm done cartwheeling for today. It's almost time for breakfast too , and we really need to clean up."

They started heading inside. "Thanks for the walk," Layla said, a guilty expression suddenly replacing her cheerful one. "I'm really sorry I overslept."

"Seriously, it's fine." Alistair wholeheartedly meant it this time. "You've definitely made up for it."

Layla paused at the Selected floor, smirking at him. "Damn right I have." She held out her fist for a fist-bump, and he stared at it in surprise before returning the gesture. "Something tells me you and I are going to be friends."

"That sounds good, as long as there are no more cartwheels involved," he quipped, only half-joking.

She threw her head back and laughed. "Not a chance. See you later, alligator."

* * *

The day after his date with Layla, Alistair was dressed in casual wear again, only this time with some sunglasses to set off the whole look. Next to him in the backseat, Jasmine Halcyon was also sporting a pair of shades, although she looked better than he did.

They were currently driving towards the Angeles Food Fair, a biannual event where booths from all over the world would be selling food from their respective countries. After Jasmine's heavy criticism of the palace hotdog, he wanted to take her to somewhere that had authentic, delicious food, and the Angeles Food Fair had popped up at just the right time.

The fair was extremely popular, however, so in order to avoid attracting attention to them, they'd donned sunglasses. He hoped that people would be too preoccupied with the food to notice them.

When they stepped out of the car, Alistair was surprised to find that the fair was much bigger than he'd expected. He was only at the gate, but the booths seemed to stretch for miles, and people milled about everywhere while stallholders loudly advertised their products.

"What do you want to try first?" Alistair asked, eyeing one booth that was selling Portuguese egg tarts.

Faced with colorful booths selling delicacies, Jasmine seemed even more indecisive than him. "Everything?" she offered.

He rolled his eyes, but smiled. "I guess it's up to me to decide." He glanced around, looking for something that he'd never tried before, and a tall booth with the flag of the Brazilian Empire on it caught his eye. "Ever been to Brazil?"

Jasmine was instantly alert. "Oh, yes!" She grabbed his hand, practically dragging him over to the stall.

Since she seemed to be a Brazil expert, Alistair stepped back and let her do the ordering. However, his eyebrows shot up and he gawked as she began speaking to the stallholder in fluent Portuguese.

As the stallholder started preparing their food, he stepped up to her. "I didn't know you could speak Portuguese," he commented, leaning against one of the standing tables in front of the booth.

"Technically, there are a lot of things you don't know about me," Jasmine reminded him light-heartedly. "For instance, I can actually speak five languages."

"Five?" Alistair was sure his eyebrows had just vanished off the top of his head. "Seriously?" His younger sister was a polyglot, but most of the people he knew could only speak two to three languages, himself included.

Jasmine nodded, looking proud. "I can speak English, Portuguese, Spanish, Swahili and French. It's helpful in my field of work."

"Ah, yes. You're an archaeologist," he recalled.

"And you're a prince," she quipped, causing them both to chuckle. "So, do you speak any foreign languages?"

His cheeks colored. "Just one, but badly," he admitted. "I had to learn French when I was younger, since France is one of our closest allies, but my grammar is lacking. Isabelle is the real language expert in our family."

Their conversation was brought to a halt as the stallholder returned, holding two plastic bowls of steaming food in his hands. Alistair placed several dollars on the counter before taking the bowls. His mouth watered at the delicious aroma that wafted into the air.

"This is one of my favorites," Jasmine said as he placed the food on the table. "It's meat stew with black beans, sausages, and rice, called _feijoada_."

"I'm not even going to try to pronounce that," Alistair muttered. As he swallowed a spoonful of the food, his mouth exploded with flavors. He could clearly taste the black beans and the meat stew, but everything else blended together to form a savory taste that he couldn't get enough of. It was undeniably one of the best things he had ever eaten in his entire life.

For a while, they both ate in silence, far too occupied with their food to make conversation. It was only when Alistair was completely finished with his bowl that he spoke. "Okay, now I can understand why you look down on palace food," he said.

Jasmine smirked. "Just you wait until the day is over. I promise you, you'll never want to eat a single bite of palace food ever again.

She seemed to take her promise seriously because, for the next couple of hours, all she did was drag him from stall to stall, where they would gorge on heavenly food and talk.

While eating, he learnt many things about her: he found out she was an only child and told her about his own family as they sampled South African _biltong_ ; she revealed her love of the Lunar New Year celebrations in New Asia over a basket of Chinese _xiaolongbao_ ; and he discovered her interest in drawing as they sipped her favorite drink, matcha tea.

The sky was starting to darken — it was winter, after all, even if it didn't feel like it — when they sat down on one of the benches, finishing the last of their _crème brûlée_. "I think I've just gained 20 pounds," Alistair complained, holding his stomach.

"Same, but I don't regret it." Jasmine leaned against the back of the bench. "I wish I could do this every day."

Thinking about the delicious food he'd eaten and the fun times he'd shared with Jasmine, he replied, "Me too."

They grabbed a cone of curly fries from a Belgian booth — according to Jasmine, he would never step foot in McDonald's again after trying these — for the long ride, then got back into the car and drove back to the palace.

After dropping Jasmine off at her door, he was walking along the corridor when one of the doors opened and Orella Yoshizumi stepped out. "Oh! Good afternoon, Your Highness," she said, smiling up at him.

"Good afternoon, Orella," he greeted, deciding not to correct her on her usage of his title. "Do you need anything?"

"Actually, yes. When are you going to go on a date with me?" Orella stared at him with her doe-like brown eyes.

He frowned. "Pardon?" Sure, he'd dated less than half of the girls, but it had only been a week. Did she expect him to finish dating them all by tomorrow?

"You've been on dates with so many girls already." Orella took his hand, pouting flirtatiously. "Am I not pretty enough?"

"Uh, it's not that…" What the heck? What was he even supposed to say? This whole situation was becoming more and more awkward, and he found himself more and more annoyed. Surely Orella knew there were 27 other girls and she would have to patiently wait for her turn, not demand his attention like an immature child. His royal duties were his priority, and surely his future wife would have to understand that.

"Sorry, but I just don't understand how someone… unrefined," Orella wrinkled her nose, "like Lyndon was the first date but I still haven't been asked out."

It was the final straw. Gritting his teeth, Alistair told her in the calmest voice he could muster, "Lady Orella, please pack your bags. A car will send you to the airport after dinner."

Orella blinked. "I'm sorry?" she demanded, her flirty demeanor vanishing instantly. She stomped her foot. "Y-you can't do that!"

Alistair laughed half-heartedly. "In case you weren't aware, this is my Selection. I can do whatever I want."

"B-but…" Orella looked livid, her face reddening more and more every second. "You can't just eliminate me for no reason!"

"My future wife needs to realize that running the country is my priority and I can't always be there for her. You've just displayed that you're not fit to be my wife," Alistair explained. "Combined with your immaturity for actually seeking me out, I think that's a very valid reason. Now, if you'll excuse me, Lady Orella, I have duties I need to attend to."

He brushed past her, feeling both relieved and guilty at the same time.

* * *

Hey guys!

It's a little bit late, but Happy New Year! I hope 2018 can bring great things for all of us, including more updates on my end (whoops)

Thanks to everybody who reviewed on the last chapter! It really made my day to hear all your feedback, and I love you all so much 3 Just to clarify, I don't have specific Main, Supporting and Minor girls, but for the sake of the story, some characters will be focused on more than others :) Don't forget to let me know who you're rooting for and who you like so far; if a character is more popular, I may be inclined to give them a little more spotlight time ;)

There's also a **poll** up on my profile about who you want to be Alistair's first dance at the birthday ball! You can vote for up to three girls, and the runner-ups of the poll may also get special scenes during the ball :)

As always, don't forget to let me know your thoughts on this chapter. And if you have anything you'd like to see in the future then feel free to mention it in your review, or drop me a PM!

Until next time!

~Rysa


	12. Overreaction

I think I forgot to clarify this in the previous A/N, but the birthday ball will be chapter 15 :)

* * *

 **Chapter Twelve: Overreaction**

 _"I'm nauseous, but I'm not dying, Alistair."_

* * *

"What do you want to eat?" Alistair asked, reading the first page of the menu. Not that he needed to, really; he already knew what each of the dishes were, and what they tasted like.

Soonja hadn't even opened the menu, and was patiently looking at him instead. "I'm fine with whatever you choose."

"Is it alright if I pick some of my favorites then?" he inquired. She answered him with a nod, and he perused the options, looking for something that he thought she might like — although everything at this restaurant was amazing, so it wouldn't be too hard to find.

He saw an entree that he figured might appeal to her, so he figured it was worth a shot. "How do you feel about goat cheese salad?"

"It sounds delicious," Soonja replied, smiling demurely.

"Okay, what about chicken?"

She answered in a similar fashion to the rest of his questions about the orders, to the point where he wasn't sure if she actually liked the dish or if she was just agreeing with everything he was saying. Once he was done, he called for a waitress to come to their table.

"What would you like to order, Your Highness?" The waiter stood attentively, ready to write down everything he wanted.

Alistair ordered for the both of them, before something crossed his mind. "Do you drink?" he asked Soonja. She nodded quickly, and he added to the waiter, "A bottle of your best red wine."

Once the waiter had left, he took the moment to look around his surroundings. They were in a private booth at the back of the restaurant and had made sure to arrive early so they wouldn't attract any unwanted attention. He'd only been to the _Crème de la Crème_ in Angeles a few times, however he was a frequent customer of the Allens branch, which was a walking distance from his Hilliard dorm. He'd spent many evenings with his friends there, eating good food and laughing together, and it was a high-class place that he thought Soonja might like.

Though it was hard to tell what Soonja liked, considering she seemed to respond to everything positively. He wasn't sure whether she was a fan of every dish in existence, or simply didn't want to speak against him. He hoped it was the former, so she could enjoy the dishes that he'd picked out.

As his thoughts wandered to the girl sitting across from him, so did his eyes. They stared at each other for a while, while Alistair quietly berated himself for his inability to make small talk. A thick silence hung in the air between them, the awkwardness so tangible that the waitress who poured their wine out for them immediately ducked away after her job was finished.

Soonja looked extremely pretty in her ribbed silver top, with a rather large necklace hanging around her neck. Her hair was let down, covering one of her shoulders. However, her eyes didn't seem so confident, darting back and forth between him and the glass of wine in front of her.

Alistair picked up his glass, holding it out and awkwardly clearing his throat. "Cheers." They clinked their glasses together, and he decided to break the silence. After all, he couldn't marry someone if he didn't talk to them, right?

"What do you do for a living?" he asked.

Soonja took a few sips from her glass, before setting it back down. "I have yet to find a job," she admitted, "but my father is a businessman."

A businessman's daughter. She would've had a better upbringing than an average Four, which made sense because of how dignified she behaved. "Do you have a dream job?"

She shook her head. "None in particular." A small smile graced her elegant features. "Although, being queen does not sound too bad."

"You've definitely come to the right place then," Alistair joked back, although at the same time, warning bells went off in his head. His conversation (more like an argument) with his father from a few days ago intruded his mind, where he'd warned him that some of the girls would be after his money and not his heart, and although he definitely didn't agree with what his father had said, he knew his father had been right.

Soonja was wealthy, so money clearly wasn't her motivation for entering the Selection. Was it possible that some of the girls had entered purely for the chance to become queen?

"So, why—"

He stopped speaking as a waiter appeared, placing their first course on the table in front of them. "Your _salade de chèvre chaud_ ," he announced, "grilled goat cheese with bread and salad."

"Thank you," Alistair said, pulling his portion closer to himself. He inhaled deeply in the delicious smell of the warm goat cheese and the lightly toasted French bread, and memories of eating this dish back in Allens instantly hit him.

He remembered the last time he'd had this dish all too well, even though it was two years ago, but he was _not_ willing to go down that path. He banished all thoughts of the past from his mind and directed his attention towards his appetizer, which sat there waiting for him to take a bite.

After they both finished, the waiter took their plates away, and he took the moment to voice the question he'd been dying to ask. "So, I was just wondering, why did you enter the Selection?"

"My mother encouraged me to," Soonja answered, setting down her second glass of wine. "She really liked the idea of the Selection. However, even without her influence, there are other reasons for me to enter."

"Such as?" he prompted.

She visibly faltered, her easy smile gone as her mouth pressed into a thin line. "New beginnings," she said vaguely. Before he could question what that was supposed to mean, she was already asking him something. "What is your opinion on the Selection process?"

"You mean, how I feel about the tradition?" he verified, and she nodded. "Well, it's a bit… outdated, and dating thirty-five girls at once is more stressful than I imagined, but overall I think it's a nice process. It gives me a chance to fall in love and find a queen for the country, while also understanding the citizens of Illea better."

Soonja nodded thoughtfully. "Don't you feel like the Selection resembles an arranged marriage? It seems unlikely to be able to find one's true love under these circumstances."

"Personally, I think it's much better than an arranged marriage," Alistair said. "Thirty-five choices are better than one, and at the very end, I'm the one making all the decisions." Or at least, that was what he thought, until his father cornered him. "And to me, it seems like fate is strong enough to bring soulmates together, no matter the circumstances. I believe that if two people are meant to be together, then it will happen, regardless of whether it's by chance, or through an arranged marriage, or through a Selection."

Soonja was staring at him like she'd just seen a ghost, and he flushed. She probably thought his words were cheesier than the _salade de chèvre chaud_. "Although if you're not big on fate, you can look at history instead. My parents found love this way. My grandparents found love this way. My ancestors found love this way. There's a reason why this tradition hasn't been broken since the founding of Illea, and why every Illea, Schreave, Koskinen, Caswell and Raynott prince has followed through with it. Because miraculously, it works."

Soonja had been silent throughout his entire monologue, and he wondered if he'd ruined his image forever. "You are right," she said, taking him by surprise. "I agree, it does work. I suppose they would have cancelled it a long time ago if it did not." She laughed nervously, before picking up her wine again.

Soon, the waiter was back, this time with their main course. "Your _coq au vin,_ Your Highness. Chicken braised in wine, with buttered noodles."

Another old favorite, although there were no less-than-pleasant memories associated with this one. They both finished surprisingly quickly, and the dessert was immediately brought up to their table.

Soonja's eyes widened at the slice of strawberry cake, sitting there in all its glory. "Isn't it the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?" Alistair joked. This strawberry cake, _le fraisier_ , was his life, and it was usually his biggest motivation for coming to _Crème de la Crème_. He ordered it every single time, and it seemed like a shame to put the tradition to an end.

"It looks good," Soonja commented, her expression unreadable. Alistair picked up his dessert spoon, cutting off a small portion of the cake and shoving it into his mouth. If he was alone, he probably would have swallowed the entire slice in one go, but he doubted Soonja would appreciate that, so he finished it one bite at a time.

When he was done, he looked up and saw that Soonja had only ate a third of her slice, so he finished his wine and waited patiently. A few minutes later, Soonja pushed the plate away from her. "Sorry, I cannot possibly eat any more," she apologized. "I am too full."

Alistair was low-key disappointed that she didn't share his love of the French strawberry cake, but not everybody could appreciate perfection. "That's fine. Should we get going?" She nodded in response, and he called the waiter over so he could pay.

They walked out of the restaurant together, both bundled up in their thick coats, and entered the car together. On the way back to the palace, he noticed Soonja hold a hand up to her forehead, as if in discomfort.

"Motion sickness?" he asked. She shook her head, closing her eyes, and his eyes furrowed with concern. "Are you alright?"

When she didn't reply, he reached out and took her hand, gently pulling it away from her face. She opened her eyes, her expression clearly questioning what he was doing, but he barely noticed. Instead, he was looking at the tiny, swollen red bumps on her face, only just visible in the car's dim lighting.

He wasn't a doctor, so he had no idea what was wrong with her, but he knew who would know. "Step on it," he told the chauffeur, who hastily picked up his speed. Soonja closed her eyes again, looking like she was asleep, but he was still worried about the state she was in.

When they got out of the car, Soonja nearly stumbled in her heels, and Alistair quickly grabbed her hand. "It's okay. Lean on me," he told her. He led her down the hallway towards the hospital wing, knocking on the door. Nobody answered.

"Dr. Mason?" he called, knocking harder. Still no reply. He raised his voice even louder. "Dr. Mason?"

"Alistair, look," Soonja said softly, pointing at a paper sign on the door.

 _Dr. Mason is currently in a meeting. Please come back later._

"Why is he in a meeting at 8pm?" Alistair demanded, shaking his head. What was he supposed to do now? Soonja was dizzy and had a strange skin condition, and there was nobody he could go to for even a diagnosis, much less for help—

Then he remembered something — or rather, somebody — that could help them. "Do you think you can make it to the Selected corridor?" he asked Soonja worriedly.

"I'm nauseous, but I'm not dying, Alistair," Soonja said. It was the closest thing to sarcasm that he'd heard come out of her mouth, and he would've found it amusing if circumstances were different.

It took them tediously long to make it up two flights of stairs, and that was when Alistair realized that he had no idea which room the person he was looking for was in. He knocked on the first door in the corridor, hoping whoever was in there could give him directions.

A short maid opened the door, looking surprised when she saw Alistair and Soonja. "Good evening, Your Highness," she greeted. "Are you—"

"Do you know where Lady Sage's room is?" he asked, cutting her off abruptly. He felt bad for doing so, but there were more important matters at stake. Soonja's life might be in danger if he didn't act quickly enough. She seemed to be getting worse and worse by the second.

"Uh… It's two doors down?"

He thanked her quickly before proceeding to walk that direction. As the door shut, he heard a distant voice that sounded like Mona asking, "What the heck just happened?"

When they got to Sage's door, he knocked and prayed to all the stars in the sky that Sage was in her room. He couldn't have been more thankful when the blonde opened the door, looking thoroughly confused.

"Alistair? What's going—"

"Soonja is dizzy and has these weird bumps on her face and Dr. Mason isn't in his office and I have no idea what's wrong with her and I don't know if it's serious or not and I need your help," he said all in one breath, exhaling loudly afterwards. "You're an EMT-in-training, right? Can you do something?"

Sage frowned, looking intently at Soonja's face. "It looks like hives to me," she announced a few seconds later. "It's nothing serious, should be just an allergic reaction." Alistair sighed with relief. "It should be fine in a few hours, but I'll get you some medicine just in case it doesn't go down. I don't know if it's only on your face, or if it also got to other parts of your body. Do you want to come down with me or stay here?"

"Stay here," Soonja said, closing her eyes and leaning on the back of Sage's vanity chair.

"Alright. Alistair, come with me." After a last worried look in Soonja's direction, he followed Sage out of her room and down the hallway.

"Why did that happen?" he blurted out. "I heard what you said, but why?"

"An allergic reaction, most likely," Sage replied, walking towards Dr. Mason's office at a surprisingly fast speed. He practically had to jog to keep up with her. "I'm assuming it was a food allergen, but I'm not sure what she's allergic to. And you said she was feeling dizzy, right?" He nodded. "Did you guys drink?"

He froze, before quickly running a few steps to keep up with her. "Uh, yeah. I don't know how many glasses she had."

"It might've been her first time drinking," Sage suggested. They were in front of Dr. Mason's door now, and she pulled a key out from a pocket in her pajama pants. "Or second, or third. Or she might just be a lightweight. Enough alcohol can make anybody dizzy."

Alistair raised an eyebrow as she unlocked the door and let them both in. "Should I be concerned that you have a key to Dr. Mason's office?"

She looked down at the key in her hand and blushed, as if just realizing what she was holding. "Oh, uh, I got it from his assistant." She put the key back in her pocket and looked at the numerous cabinets in the office, reading each label intently.

"Why?" Alistair asked, accidentally sounding a little harsher than he meant to. He quickly corrected himself. "I mean, I'm not mad. I'm just curious." He left his other question unvoiced; since when did Dr. Mason have an assistant? Being at school for most of the year really made him miss a lot.

Sage pulled open a drawer, peering inside before shaking her head and closing it. "I came here by accident on the first day, when trying to find the garden doors, and kind of… scraped my knee?"

"An EMT-in-training injuring herself," Alistair repeated, the irony definitely not lost on him.

"Yeah, you don't see that happening every day," Sage joked, opening another drawer. "Dr. Mason was busy with a patient, but his assistant saw me and helped me, even though I probably could've done it myself." She chuckled. "He gave me the extra key since he said I could let myself in if I hurt myself again."

"Have you?"

She rolled her eyes. "No. But be glad I have this key, since it clearly came in handy." She pulled some medicine out of the drawer, glancing at it before nodding. "This is the one."

"Great." Alistair stopped as a thought occurred to him. "Wait, where is Dr. Mason's assistant now? He could've helped us."

Sage shrugged. "Beats me. I don't think he lives in the palace, so he probably went home already." She glanced at him. "Uh, do you want to come with me to give this to Soonja, or should I go by myself?"

Alistair didn't reply, momentarily distracted as something caught his eye. He walked closer to Dr. Mason's desk, seeing a large teal binder labelled _Selected Medical Forms_.

"Uh, Alistair, what are you doing?" Sage asked, coming up behind him. "I don't want to get Dr. Mason's assistant into trouble for being here, and looking at his private fi—" She shut up when she saw the binder. "Oh."

He flipped it open, seeing that it was alphabetically arranged, and found the C section easily. Facing him was Soonja's medical form, with a detailed account of her health. It was too much information for him, most of which he couldn't even understand due to the professional terminology, but one thing jumped out at him from the page under the _Allergies_ section.

"Strawberries," Sage voiced out loud. "Did she—"

Alistair snapped the binder shut, and the loud sound made Sage flinch next to him. _Allergic to strawberries._ He distinctly remembered asking her if she was okay with strawberry cake as he was ordering, and how she had left half her slice on the plate.

Why did she pretend she was fine with eating the cake, when she knew it would result in something like this?

"Why didn't she say anything?" he asked quietly, confused and slightly hurt. "When I was ordering that cake, when it came to our table, why didn't she say anything?"

"Honestly, I don't know," Sage said. "Uh, do you want me to take this up to her?"

He nodded, still confused by what he had just learned. Sage looked at him worriedly before clearing her throat. "Goodnight, Alistair." She left without another word, and after a few minutes, he put the binder back and left the office as well.

On the stairs up to the third floor, however, he was surprised to find his valet standing there, laughing with who he couldn't make out over the basket of bedsheets Owen was holding. He cleared his throat, and Owen spun around and nearly dropped the basket.

"Good evening!" said the person he was with. It took Alistair a moment to recognize the voice as Cassiopeia, one of the Selected he hadn't spoken much with.

"Good evening," he replied, shooting Owen a quizzical look. Why was his valet laughing with one of his Selected, in the middle of the stairs, this late? "Something funny?"

"Lady Cassiopeia was just telling me about when she offered to help her neighbor with gardening one day." Owen and Cassie shared a knowing look, before they both burst into laughter again. "Apparently, she thought all the green, leafy plants were weeds, so she uprooted all of her neighbor's prized daffodils."

"That's… Nice," Alistair said awkwardly, feeling suddenly out of place. He didn't know Cassiopeia all that well, yet it seemed his valet already got along swimmingly with her. "Sorry to interrupt, but we should go now, Owen."

Owen's face fell for a moment, but he nodded. "Of course." He turned back to Cassiopeia, smiling. "It was a pleasure to hear your stories, Lady Cassiopeia."

"It was a pleasure to tell them!" Cassiopeia responded cheerfully.

Suddenly, an idea struck Alistair, and the words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them. "Cassiopeia, would you like to go on a date with me tomorrow?"

The redhead froze, her mouth dropping open. "Me?" she echoed.

"Do you know any other Cassiopeias?" Alistair joked feebly.

Cassiopeia's smile widened, her blue eyes practically glowing with happiness. "I would love to! When?"

"I'll tell you the details at breakfast." Alistair glanced over his shoulder at Owen, who was still patiently waiting for him. "But for now, it's been a long day and I'm going to get some rest."

* * *

School started two weeks ago so this is why this took me a while, but honestly, I had this all written out except like the last 200 words so I really should've uploaded this earlier whoops. Also, last section is unedited because I'm tired af and I need to go put on my contacts and that's probably going to take me like an hour, so please bear with any grammar mistakes you might find.

Let me know what you thought about this chapter, and don't forget to vote on the poll on my profile :)

Until next time!

~Rysa


	13. Let Them Eat Cake

Happy super-late Valentine's Day and Chinese/Lunar New Year!

I'm on break for about a week, but I'm also gonna be traveling so I'm not sure if I'll have enough time to update before the end of February, and school is kinda hectic. Hope you guys can enjoy this chapter :)

* * *

 **Chapter Thirteen: Let Them Eat Cake**

 _"She'd witnessed a plank-off in the Women's Room two days ago and had realized she was on a totally different level than Hilda, Myra and Emma."_

* * *

Cassiopeia's eyes were glued to the door of the Women's Room as she fiddled with one of her diamond earrings. By her side, Holiday was talking loudly to Aurea and Donna, but her words might as well have been in another language since Cassiopeia was barely paying attention.

Her stare strayed from the door for a fleeting moment as she glanced at the clock. It had been exactly two hours and fifty-seven minutes since the end of lunch. The previous day, Alistair had told her he was going to ask her out, and Cassiopeia was a bundle of nerves and excitement.

She couldn't remember the last time she had ever been so impatient. She wanted to see what kind of date the prince had planned for her, she wanted to see if she could have a chance with him, but she still had to sit in the Women's Room and wait in agony. She stared harder at the door, wishing it would swing open and reveal Alistair.

"-so that's why I've been officially blacklisted from Paris Fashion Week, all because of a pineapple," Holiday finished, and the sounds of Aurea and Donna laughing slapped Cassiopeia back into reality. "Were you listening, Cassie?"

Cassiopeia tore her gaze away from the door, heat rushing to her cheeks. "Sorry… Something about a pineapple?"

Aurea laughed, while Donna snorted in a slightly condescending way. Holiday, however, didn't look rattled. "Still waiting for my brother?"

Cassiopeia gave a small nod, mentally berating herself for being so easy to read. Holiday chuckled and grabbed her hand. "Hey. He'll show up sooner or later. No need to stare at the door for five hours like you're admiring a masterpiece from the Renaissance." She promptly let go, looking mildly disgusted. "Your hands are so sweaty."

In response, Cassiopeia couldn't help but laugh, although she did wipe her palms on the skirt of her pale purple dress — her maid would have a heart attack if she saw her. "But what if the door is a masterpiece from the Renaissance?"

"I'm pretty sure this palace was built after the bombing in the Caswell reign," Donna informed her, wrinkling her nose. Cassiopeia gritted her teeth, but stopped herself from saying anything. While most of the Selected were extremely pleasant, some took the competition very seriously and Donna happened to be one of those girls. She constantly hung around Holiday and sucked up to the princess, which was starting to irk Cassiopeia and Aurea.

Suddenly, the door to the Women's Room swung open, and Cassiopeia immediately turned around. One of the servants was there, holding a tray in his hand with an envelope on top.

"The prince has a message for Lady Cassiopeia," he announced, and Cassiopeia felt every single pair of eyes in the room land on her.

She felt incredibly self-conscious as she raised her hand in the dead-silent room and muttered, "That's me." Lifting herself off the couch, she made her way towards the servant, who handed the envelope to her, and ripped it open.

 _Lady Cassiopeia,_

 _Would you like to join me in the main ballroom? I have planned a surprise that I hope you will enjoy. If you do not know the way, the servant will take you there._

 _-Alistair_

Cassiopeia spent a moment marveling over Alistair's flawless penmanship and beautiful signature before looking up and realizing that the servant was waiting expectantly. "Oh. Of course. Can you take me there, though?"

The servant nodded, and she followed him out the door, glad to be leaving the Women's Room judgmental stares. As soon as the door shut behind them, she could hear the cacophony of exclamations and shrieks, causing her to wince. She would definitely be the subject of the gossip in that room for the next few hours.

"Do you know what the surprise Alistair mentioned is?" she asked the servant casually as she tried to match his pace. He was walking surprisingly fast down the stairs, and she didn't understand what the hurry was for.

He smiled. "I have received specific orders to not reveal anything."

Cassiopeia pouted, although inside she was speculating what the surprise would be. It was in the ballroom, so… A ballroom dancing class? That would be helpful, considering Alistair's birthday ball was in two days and she had two left feet, but that was more of a group-lesson-with-Mimi thing rather than a first-date thing.

Or maybe he had chosen the ballroom because it was so spacious, so… Some kind of athletic activity? Cassiopeia hoped it wasn't, because she was the least fit banana in the bunch — she'd witnessed a plank-off in the Women's Room two days ago and had realized she was on a totally different level than Hilda, Myra and Emma.

Her questions were finally answered when the servant opened the door to the main ballroom, and she blinked rapidly for a moment as she was faced with a completely adorned ballroom. The walls were covered with dark blue and silver decorations, while there were a lot of chairs and tables set up at the corners of the room. Towards one wall, she could see Alistair sitting at a table, and she made her way over to him.

"Is this where your birthday ball will be held?" she asked, gesturing around her.

He grinned, standing up and pulling out a chair for her — what a gentleman. "Yep. Not bad, right? Although some tacky balloons, pińatas and streamers would make it better."

She nodded, sitting down and awkwardly crossing her ankles in the way Mimi had taught them to. Going from a Seven to a Selected had been no easy task, but she was determined to prove that she could be ladylike too. "So what is this surprise you've planned?"

"Well, as you've probably heard, my birthday is in two days," he began. So it was the ballroom-dancing class, then. "And the best part of any ball held at the palace is the food."

Suddenly, Cassiopeia found herself a lot more intrigued. "Oh?" This seemed to be going a different direction than what she'd expected.

"The palace chefs always prepare the menu at least a month in advance, because they need a lot of time to order all the ingredients, make sure nobody has any allergies, all that stuff," Alistair said nonchalantly, although she noticed his jaw tensed slightly when he mentioned the word _allergies_. "Usually, my family and I will sample all the food to make sure it's up to our standards."

She liked where this was going. "But?"

"But I decided to invite you to taste test everything with me today," he announced. "Not only are we going to be eating a ton of dessert, but you can also help me choose the flavors for my birthday cake. How does that sound?"

She thought the answer would've been obvious — who would turn this date down? — but based on his slightly anxious expression, Alistair didn't. "It sounds amazing!"

He beamed, which she thought was cute, and called for the servants. Cassiopeia's eyes widened as she saw the multiple plates that they were carrying.

Once they'd been set down on the table, she saw that there were at least ten types of cake, and two slices of each. "Thank you so much," she said to the servants, smiling gratefully at them.

"Which one do you want to start with?" Alistair asked.

She'd never been a decisive person, but faced with all these possibilities she found that she was even more at a loss. She pointed to the plate nearest to her, which had a cake with white frosting and yellow and pink layers. "This one?"

"Lemon raspberry cake with vanilla buttercream," the servant explained.

The cake was delicious. Cassiopeia had never tasted something so sweet and tangy, yet not overwhelming, and she felt like she was biting into fluffy clouds. She closed her eyes, trying to imagine eating fifty other kinds of delicious cake.

She opened her eyes to find Alistair smirking. "I'm guessing you like it."

"It's probably the best thing I've ever eaten," she gushed. "Sevens don't get a lot of opportunities to try things like this."

Alistair's brow furrowed. "Oh?"

Cassiopeia nodded. "Before the Selection, I'd only eaten cake twice in my whole life," she admitted, suddenly feeling guilty that she was eating all this cake.

"Well, we better make up for lost time." Alistair pushed another plate towards her. "Red velvet. My personal favorite."

They continued eating the different types of cake, and along the way, Cassiopeia found out that tiramisu flavored cake was the best thing to happen to this world, and that she absolutely hated bittersweet chocolate cake. She was starting to get full just from eating cake and was seriously considering skipping dinner later as she stared at one of the last slices.

"Chocolate caramel cake with brown sugar buttercream," she heard the servant say. As soon as she tasted the cake, she knew this was the best one yet.

"This one," was all she said, her mouth still full of cake, but Alistair seemed to understand her meaning.

"So now we have to decide on five flavors," he said, and Cassiopeia's eyes widened.

"Five?"

"They're making a five-layer cake," he said sheepishly, and Cassiopeia realized that there really was a huge difference between her and the future monarch of Illea. She'd never seen a five-layer cake in person, only in pictures, and she couldn't imagine ever having one for herself.

"Well, I think you should definitely include the last one," she said. "It was the best."

Alistair looked to the servant, who quickly started writing it down. "What about the red velvet cake, and the vanilla bean cake?"

"Sure," Cassiopeia said, shrugging. "Can we also include the tiramisu?" All the cake was starting to blur together in her mind, but there were definitely some stand-outs that she could happily eat all day. She was _so_ glad she'd signed up for the Selection.

"We need one more," he said, after peering at the list the servant was writing. "Personally, I thought the lemon cake was really good."

She nodded. "Lemon cake it is." She was already excited for the ball, if all the food was going to be this good. She felt really honored that he'd chosen her, out of all thirty-five girls, to share this important decision — and amazing food — with. The Women's Room would be so jealous. However, she wasn't sure she wanted to share this special moment with them.

Alistair cleared his throat. "Oh, one last thing. I don't mean to intrude on your privacy, but I was wondering if you and Owen are friends? Since you two were talking last night…"

Cassiopeia remembered crashing — literally — into a sad-looking Owen several days ago. She'd figured the least she could do was to cheer him up and make him feel better, so she'd devoted an hour towards telling him the most ridiculous jokes she knew. Since then, they had stopped to talk every time they saw each other. "I guess you could say that. He's really nice," she said. "I just think everyone deserves a friend, somebody that they can talk to."

"Are you friends with the Selected, then?" he asked, looking genuinely interested.

She nodded. "They're all really nice," well, mostly, "but I get along best with Layla and Aurea. Princess Holiday has also been nothing but kind to me, and talking to her can be really fun."

Alistair raised an eyebrow. "My sister? Hmm, that's interesting." Cassiopeia had no idea what that was supposed to mean. "Well, thank you for agreeing to come on this date with me, Cassiopeia."

"You can just call me Cassie," she interjected. "Everybody does." She'd long gotten used to the fact that pronouncing her long and fancy name was a struggle, and while she did love the sound of her full name, it was much simpler to go by Cassie.

"I think Cassiopeia suits you," Alistair said. "It's a beautiful name."

Cassiopeia's face flushed and she looked down, trying not to meet his eyes as a wave of nostalgia crashed onto her. She could still remember, clear as day, the only other person who'd ever insisted on calling her Cassiopeia; could still imagine his infectious smile that she'd never see again. _Jaxon, I'm so sorry._

"I'm so sorry," Alistair said, and Cassiopeia snapped her head back up. "That was way too cringeworthy. Forget I said anything." He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, clearly embarrassed.

She forced a smile, firmly pushing all thoughts of Jaxon to the back of her mind — for now. "No, don't be sorry. It was fine, just a little…" She laughed nervously, trying to figure out what to say. "Cliche? But the sentiment was appreciated."

"Glad to know my efforts aren't completely futile," he joked. "So, uh… Where were we?"

"You were thanking me," she said.

"Ah, right." Alistair glanced at his watch, his face filled with disappointment. "As much as I'd love to continue this conversation, I promised Adina I'd watch a movie with her, so I'll have to end our date here."

Cassiopeia nodded, marveling how he still found time for his siblings even with the Selection going on. "I understand. Thank you for the cake," she added jokingly.

"No problem." He rose from his seat. "Have a nice day."

* * *

this is totally unrelated but are y'all watching the Olympics because HOLY COW Yuzuru Hanyu! I love him so much asdfghjkl;

and Nathan Chen who honestly would've won a medal if his SP had been better but still did AMAZING (as an Asian-American I am so proud of Team USA this year, because look at how many Asians there are!)

and I'm also so excited for Karen Chen my hometown girl who I adore with all my heart

Okay bye, love you guys, thanks for dealing with my terrible updating schedule, unrelated rambling and low-quality writing.

Until next time!

~Rysa


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